Search results for just cruisin radio edit by will smith

We've found 21 lyrics, 100 artists, and 100 albums matching just cruisin radio edit by will smith:



Maybe just think once, or try some school at night
They're makin' radio wack, people have to escape
But even if I'm banned, I'll sell a million tapes
than I, so approved by Carly Simon.
Most rappers is real hard, but still hardly rhymin'.
To all - rise and shine; give God the glory.
I already give
too clever, however
I own my own label
Partners with Scott Larock, he's on the turntable
And partner lee smith
I'm exercising a true gift just
and Smith-n-Wessed up, ready to press up 
 and fuck their nest up, the enemy is Hennessey to sessed up 
 Actin up, hit my motherfuckin man up 
 Never again will he
Joe could blow
Just like the radio
And he used to drove them "B" girls wild

But when grandma started happy dancing
(Oh, she gon' break somethin')
thug will do
Hit Branson get a fifty jug or two
Ya'll throwin on them gritty mugs for who
Like ya'll don't know what fifty slugs will do
Hatin I just
sellin' radios and toasters by the trunkful 



See, every man she ever messed would wind up dead 



Some might fall in jail, others runnin' from
in the sky
Will have this whole bitch lookin' like the fourth of July
But if you pussy's get to frontin' and the pushing lead to shoving
We just
too clever, however
I own my own label
Partners with Scott Larock, he's on the turntable
And partner lee smith
I'm exercising a true gift just
seem
You just may die by a barrage from a M-16
But to each his own, choose you mobile phone
Choose a tailored suit, the luxury home
You'll never get
want I'm a cop that
I'm your Rashad, you my Nu-Nu
I'm ya Will Smith, baby you my Jada Poo
And when I'm in the studio you come chill wit' me
Play around
with my sister you know I love that
That's why whatever you want I'm a cop that
I'm your Rashad, you my Nu-Nu
I'm ya Will Smith, baby you my Jada Pooh
a sit-down
Forget the studio and the mixdown
It's time to set it, you talkin loud without the credit
You clean like a radio edit
You couldn't tell that
the house structure
Like Empire State, the power will surely crush you 
As a pun on a radio edit, or nasty soda
I'm colder in the heart when the camel back
you to start testin
Gimme a Smith-N-Wesson I'll have niggas undressin
I'm rollin with a mob and runnin from the cops
Drive stolen cars and shoot many
thug will do
Hit Branson get a fifty jug or two
Ya'll throwin on them gritty mugs for who
Like ya'll don't know what fifty slugs will do
Hatin I just
be this, there wouldn't be Chris,
Or a Public Enemy with a black power fist.
No Queen Latifa, no Will Smith either,
There would only be tight jeans,
Tisha Camp-bell
You're wack like Will Smith, your rhyme style is pansy
I fuckin murder your young style like JonBenet Ramsey
Now who the master to beg?
Tisha Camp-bell
You're wack like Will Smith, your rhyme style is pansy
I fuckin murder your young style like JonBenet Ramsey
Now who the master to beg?
Clone me like sheep, I clean house like Tony Rand-all
Wit style filed for sexual harassment like Tisha Camp-bell
You're wack like Will Smith, your rhyme
like Will Smith, your rhyme style is pansy
I fuckin murder your young style like JonBenet Ramsey
Now who the master to beg? Your demo gets passed