Lyrics:
and jackin' marks
And the punk police can't fade me, and maybe
We can have peace someday, G
But right now I got my mind set up
Lookin' down the barrel of my
clean
And I don't give a fuck 'bout
Money 'cause I know I'm fly
Bitch, I know I'm fly, bitch
I know I'm fly
If you know you fly, hands up in the sky
everyday,
"Boy you better clean up your room before you go outside and play"
[Prince Poetry]
Yo Monch you can remember when we used to play skelly way back
Or poor man, I keep my hands clean
I don't do dirt I do work
I got shorty back and she support
It's sad I cut this burnt hoe off like my sweatshorts
Was
the penny drops
Yeah, I'm a wordsmith with a black heart
Got trouble making bright art
Figure out where time starts
To take the course of life by both hands
Matthews Mark Luke and John and Revelations line at a time
It lasted four hours but not one left their seat
God's power had been given and delivered by
Ciarra Tape
Okay Bryant, let's see what makes you so poppin'
Queen to a king, goddess of mine, apple of eye
Product of my positive side, right by
I got found in the mud
Now redeemed by blood
Guess that make me clean clean
Like I'm in the suds
God still drawing men in like a strip club
All
very submersible
All of my people are winning and grinning
All of us grateful, none of us sinning
I kept it lowkey
Look how I'm kicking it so low
Leo
His Holy Spirit
In summary, the Holy Spirit gives us a new life
With a new heart that wants to obey God
And hates doing anything that makes God sad
So
He's in a class by himself
A league of His own
He'll give life to the dead
He'll breathe on your bones
He's more than a homeboy
He's king on a thrown
had a tear in his eye
He said I'm an outlaw but my hands are clean
And I love this girl who won't look twice at me
I've made love work for others
on minds on walls and in the past
We're slaves to cravings but we'll last
The best thing about us is that we screw up and don't give a fuck
We are young
issues
I'm covered by a Grace that I'm not trying to misuse
So here's my truce
As we lift up our hands for our nation
We're crying to you Lord for
Monster trucks and baby dolls
Crayons that have left their mark on the walls
Sounds of stomping feet and slamming doors
A landmine of Legos that used
radio station had this contest
To see who could correctly guess the number of molecules in Leonard Nimoy's butt
I was off by three, but I still won
place in the game
I came to rephrase what rap really is
It ain't drugs or money or actin like kids by talking sum shit
It's really about how you spit
Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride
As we went a walking down by the seaside
Now, mark what followed and what did betide
For it being
can't make a sound
Tie 'em up for the fact that I'm kickin' ass
I got my hand on my gat, and I'm tempted to blast
My name is Eazy, but I go the hard
Judges, give his scores
6, 6, 6, sheesh
Bitch, you got the mark of the beast
Go back in the oven maybe add some yeast
Lost cause you're finish, be gone,
It's another day in hell
Leave your mark
Don't be shy
Cuz we won't back down
Raise your glass
At the gates of the abyss
They take our lives, tear us
these streets, Jaylen dead that's all he see
Look here lil love, say give me yo hand and we thug
We roll up, we kick it and smoke a lil bud
I told her
Written by: John Duarte, Mark Paul
Mr. Mambo (repeat)
I've been waiting for the weekend
To go out and have some fun
Well the stars shine just like
yeah
Soap on the fit cause that shit was clean
I'm getting racks by any means
This a fat backwood not no game green
It's a whole lot of racks inside
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