Lyrics:
Call it puppy love, Curtis and Tisha in the tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
She was pregenant by me once, glad she didn't have it
'Cause I be paying child
thousand without a radio chart hit
Imposterous son is taking the world hostage
Classic hip-hop bombage dirty with style progress
Now I've come from
must be crazy, nigga
Onе song for my deluxe is all I need to do
These puppies barkin'
They done bit off more than they can chew
My album just dropped
I'm
the band
It was a really fun song
Rockin' Robin
Rock, rock
Rockin' Robin
He made me a cassette tape
And I wish I could find it
But at the end of the tape
to my nigga dre 10 million and counting
Who me
The Nigga that mixed it mastered it edit it wrote it spit it your kids spoke it
M3
Enoughs enough
You
what I mean
An ANTI NIGGA machine
I ain't got no radio edits!
Baby we don't come clean
Yet I
Stay on my JERU
A dirty rotten scoundrel
On the Southside
In
lettuce go
Incredible YO!
This is what I mean
An ANTI NIGGA machine
I ain't got no radio edits!
Baby we don't come clean
Yet I
Stay on my JERU
A dirty
really don't think that you little niggas wanna start
Listen guppy you swimmin' with a shark
You a puppy I'm a big dog, somethin' like Pete Rock
that line leak out the radio, it was a long story how it happened
D-12 though, y'all better quit actin' like that wadn't my man too
Like I was tryna
Yo I was sold to a sick European by a rich African battlin'
Middle Passages, I can't go back again
Battlin' years of denyin' history, lies
on the radio until you got the wax
Some mere infatuation, until you got to check me out in person
First sight of me causing exhilaration
You love the way I do
Yo I was sold to a sick European by a rich African battlin'
Middle Passages, I can't go back again
Battlin' years of denyin' history, lies
spiritual essence
And he goes by the name of, uh
Hood
Check your rhyme, punk that ass or get got, F it (shit)
I lick buckshots, Hood, madman, I rip up
for
Shattered by the impact of falling garage doors
Jump the boards like parkour, what's the raw score?
I don't know I paused the game to rock
By none other than Ghostface Killah, Raekwon the Chef
Rock Marciano and Busta Rhymes
A job well done fellas, very good piece of work
By none other than Ghostface Killah, Raekwon the Chef
Rock Marciano and Busta Rhymes
A job well done fellas, very good piece of work
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
done before 17
I'm really that kid (That kid)
Always on it, never miss (Never)
They play Jakkah on the radio (Yeah)
They like 'how this ain't a hit'
no drive-by's
We walked over
COB bandana tied to the end of the AR
Iller than they are, rhymes so sick
Give 'em the day off
This is the chaos, Nicolas
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
meet
Meat at
This is nonchalant you getting tipped by your bloods like we cripping at your restaurant
Boy this is music the heart of it is pain
So many
and loving
Juggling, my beliefs need readjusting
My life was sticks and rocks
Kick, punch, block it was not a box
Of butterscotch and shuttlecocks
I have
But I got the radio bumpin' Jagged Edge by the bed
When you wanna get up witcha cutty buddy
Come on and dip off through the hideout with Twist'
But
indica/sativa blend gon’ heal me, heal me
I’m a sick, twisted, little kid on a mission
Lemme show you my vision
If video killed the radio star, let’s resurrect
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