Lyrics:
get 9 to 5 money in 120 minutes
Spend my time makin' it I'm fast when I spend it
Hear my track they say run it back aye DJ spin it
I got paper I go off
drop your government of thought
This master of all ceremonies will rock our phonies
Until their brain rots or heart stops, or what not
So by far, I'm
LulKam nigga, yea
Long live 4
4 way or no way
Me and the men we gon' hop on a flight and go see 'bout the islands
I walk through your rip in
they're complex
I'll tie a duck MC up and pour acid down his lyranex
Chased by Him because his was his beginning
Federal Bureau couldn't even figure
instead of enslaved and depraved
waiting to be tortured by Ralphus(?) and sow(?) doom(?)
are you willing to accept me as your master
[CHORUS A]
I got
I'm fly, pass you by, it ain't hard to get jetlag
Stuck in my ways, over the phone you talkin' sideways (hello)
Up in my face, want me to park this
Crabs, I'm followed by a camp like John Cougar
Mellen, tell them punks I put a swellin, for the lords split'cha
I kick tails that tips scales on the ricter
you'll get greeted
By the 380 colt mustang in my pocket
I had a few drinks already, don't make me cock it
Cause if I have to cock it, well then it's
rhymes for at least an hour, and a half
Take a shower, then my task, turn on the radio and blastUSL,
Cause DJ Ran rip shit spinnin' the newest LP's
of the nation and i'm losing my lunch it's a rip off and i want to see it exposed classic rock for balding farts who need to feel young plastic rock for snotnosed
in the Slum Village
Return of the Boom Bap with two million on the wrist
DJ Drama
Ayo, Tom Brown sale surrounded by drug paraphernalia
I dare you
Intro (Siri)
And R.I.P. Dj Shay
Verse 1 (Grafh)
I just think how short life is, Uh
They probably give me my roses after they honor me
Stabbed me
on slim bitch might be fake
Whip the can am we go shred by da lake
I ain't tryna hold it baby I just wanna taste
Run the marathon if yo ass wanna race
Rip
me
I roll with Little Flip lettin' them hollows rip
Straight at yo chest plate I can't fuckin' wait
Until a nigga cross my path you do the math
I
by QC prepared me for the danger (hey)
My stick got a scope like a Texas park ranger
I look up to Mom and Mom only
I ran up a sack in some orange
Niggas ain't have or function like me
Hundred grand chain, you ain't icy like me
R.I.P. to my nigga G-Baby
Got a gun seat behind me like my name Jay-Z
tryin' to sell to a sprung lane
I control ya brain
[DJ Paul]
Now do muh niggas bust glocks fuck wit us Big see
It's the ¿buggaz? of the boat,
Who think they could rip any stank group of chicks
I come creepin' with a mask like a St. Lunatic
I'm a diva by day but when the clock strike twelve
Yeah it's Project Pat up in this thang
Representin' "Layin' the Smackdown", "North North"
Three 6 Mafia fin' a rip it like it's supposed to be flip
"I got ta" (Repeat 4x)
(I got ta) Pick up the mic on a soul tip
(I got ta) Run you down like a Polo skip
(I got ta) Rip MC's like a paper bag
(I
nigga
Asshole by nature, fuck it I'm Trey
Run that tank nigga like it's a relay
You really pussy that's what the streets say
Fuck who you know nigga, you
of you motherfuckers names
Simple and plain
DJ and DJ, wanna see how many hearts I rip
But you be friendly in the presence
Of a gangsta bitch
When you
the .4's by me
Diamonds up the piece it's all shiny
Still without a backstage pass the whores find me
And they know who the man be
Ice grill on the watch,
the fold out covers
And the crazy illustrations
I got older and bought my own records
By thirteen I had three crates collected, huh
And that's my pride, no
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