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Search results for 'im a rover by john holt'

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[Chorus]
Cause now I'm channeling John Brown's ghost.

Because John Brown was an abolitionist
He did his thing at Harper's Ferry, though he missed
a slut
Who gives a fuck
That's fine nigga shit
I'm a good with mine
I can tell by your shoes you know what I want
Fuck a prenup give me half up front
the daddy raw buff
You can call me a slut
Who gives a f***
That's fine n**** s***
I'm a good with mine
I can tell by your shoes you know what I want
rover to ranger
Danger, I'm iggidy-off the planet like kramer
My iggidy-anger, slaughter, iggidy-out of order
Split your monkey ass in half like moses
[B.G.]
Niggas be hating 'cause B.G. got it 
On top of the line only got it but I ride it 
From the hummer to the rover to the project 
B and C
black people, eat too much grease
'cause every diner in New York, is controlled by Greeks
Until my sons bust guns, like Paul Rover's son
Political rebel,
the rovers roll up wit ribbons
I seen them repo'd, resold then redriven
So when I reload, he holds number one position
When you hot I'm hot
And when your feet
the fuck you teaching me I ain't got no obedience
Ya'll are made of shit I'm the thug's ingredients
And for my niggas I peel like fucked up paint jobs
and A train
Now I got 6 homes, 10 cars, 8 names
I might be Charles Johnson, John Bronson
Oscar Martinez, Omar Swanson
And don't front, I'm jingelin baby
bring heat, it's so rough
Niggas test everyday, calling your bluff
Eiht had enough, I'm smoking my fluff
Spitting game, letting you know my turf is tough
glasses no longer are we sober
October, my birthday when's yours?
She said it was in May and by the way I'm a Taurus
Pour us two more glass of Aleza,
the fuck you teaching me I ain't got no obedience
Ya'll are made of shit I'm the thug's ingredients
And for my niggas I peel like fucked up paint jobs
And the only bullets by my stomach be the clip from my gun 
And when my gun busts it's over so close the curtains 
My silencer's like ch, ch, ch like birds was
a slut
Who gives a fuck
That's fine nigga shit
I'm a good with mine
I can tell by your shoes you know what I want
Fuck a prenup give me half up front
the dope, son, Jimmy Iovine with the coke, son
Wise time fly by, I'm an OG, bad bitch with double D's
Nigga, Jordan couldn't palm these, feel the breeze
Wrap
bring heat, it's so rough
Niggas test everyday, calling your bluff
Eiht had enough, I'm smoking my fluff
Spitting game, letting you know my turf is tough
the Liberty, fake Range Rover
I'm on his (Tail) like, Sonic lil' shorty
Palmin' on a 40, broad day I'm tryin' to dodge a cover story
Look like he stoppin for
and A train
Now I got 6 homes, 10 cars, 8 names
I might be Charles Johnson, John Bronson
Oscar Martinez, Omar Swanson
And don't front, I'm jingelin baby
Charles Johnson, John Bronson
Oscar Martinez, Omar Swanson
And don't front, I'm jingelin baby
Chains, bracelet, rings, blingin all crazy
Rob me? I think
beats by the pound like niggas slaingin' sacks
In the 'hood, up to no good
Got niggas bout it, from baton rouge to st. louis
To cincinnati
Got niggas
I guess I troop, honey, what the scoop? You're kinda cute
Your man is John Recoup, same as my climbing boot
Blase blase blah, I'm not a star, I
puffin Havana
Bring ya drugs to Atlanta if you don't fuck with bammer
You only fuck with chron', be poppin Cris Don
You rockin Big John's, your watch is
85%, I'm 400 solid
Brainbolic wit knowledge, cock-diesel scholars
Holdin' it down, walkin' around wit gold by the pound
Frozen down wit diamond bolders