Lyrics:
and some bottles
Time sponsored by Movado
We can start up in Chicago
And end up in the Bahamas
So say goodbye to your back
Cause I'm gon break it
Like his
"One beer? Man you gotta give me a dollar for a beer"
Check this out
One time, steps a man
Common Sense and the Unamerican Caravan
The true
Bellisle be Bellisle
Bell-Bellisle Bell-Bell-Bellisle
Hey Kid Rock, tell 'em how your livin
Man I spend my birthdays at Denny's eatin southern
but I think they're great
Like sodium acetylsalicylate
(Sodium acetylsalicylate)
I wake up each morning a most happy man
I cover my Pic-O-Pay with
(Makers)
(Run that back, Turbo)
Tryna make a change
Tryna make a dollar when I only had some change
Sittin' inside a one man cell, I tightened
a avalanche rocking it from Barcelona to Japan
New York, LA, Atlanta, Chicago and Houston got rappers but, not like this man
Midwest boys episodes be classy
around the corner? It's a drill (it's a drill)
All these blues on me, man, they thought I had a deal
I'm from the six, we don't do no drive-bys
Walk up
Yo, Fresh, you ready?
I'm ready, man, let me do this (run it, run it)
What? What? What? What? (Sheeit)
What? What? What? What you, what you need,
about my reputation
Across the nation, "Mr. I get around"
My temptation got me drippin' wet, perspiration
I'm activated by the moves you makin'
Baby,
You ain't trying to hot box with me, I swing hard liquor
Going down by the second round, all hail the underground
How that sound? Xzibit backing
I seen the light, yeah
D-d-d-die about me
Oh she, it can't be defined by me
When I set it in motion
Never question the motive
Mhm, mhm
Now I'll tell you in Chicago boys, I was broken man
Dirty movies, credit cards and bills past due again
And that son of mine spit in my face and then
wanna show you what a GIB, I'd rather be sippin' Remy in VIP,
When you hear the music it'll be by me, Twista with the legendary nigga BIG,
Brooklyn
Yo, this is somethin new by
Notorious-ass Above the Law
In the motherfuckin place
The Illustrator KMG
Yo 187, you gotta let em know what's goin
middle man it for twenty-three
Just meet me somewhere 'round Baltimore
(Woo) That's rare, nigga (Woo) Ric Flair
Nigga (Woo) The power's in my hair, nigga
Like you finna die by the gun
Man, you smell like corn chips, This got me weak, man, I'm done
You see how I'm switchin' the flow on 'em, I keep goin',
the streets
A pint of Guinness to kill your kidneys
I meant liver, fuck
Love living superior
By the Hudson river
Beat break so cold, make em fucking shiver
Like
Gotta keep your groove
How can a man like me not know the answers
Jack Dean another teen without a dad or mother
I wrapped myself in rap to distract from
screwface
The cold is getting to him, don't hurt 'em, it's too late
Yeah, he just a dude with a dream
That been quashed by a system, wasn't built to succeed
""What If I Told You I Love You""
(M. Finney, J. Stringfellow)
Put that needle on that record man
It's something good for the soul
Something you all
watching
Pigs open fire on people from Oakland to Raleigh
Minniapp and Miami
Atlanta, Chicago, LA to Philly, Austin, Milwaukee
Louisville, Buffalo,
Aww hell, nah nigga
We ain't doin' no freestyles
Don't even know how to do that shit
Yeah, whatever
Check it out man, check this one out
I been
I'm talkin' about Houston, Texas by the way of L.A. California
We call this young man, The Master of The Telecaster,
The Razor Wavin' Man, because he
A man who's genius and freedoms and
Ability to communicate and
To talk, and to touch chords
A man who has the ability and the audacity
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