Lyrics:
Master P put a youngin' on game, it's more to life than the shit we proclaim
Dear Mr. President you ain't shit, it's ironic that your mom raised
Banner
For you to salute
A reminder to raise the standard for the youth
I pledge allegiance to truth
Dear Mr. President remolding the laws, no holding us
the end[01:19.37]Hear me out mr president[01:20.85]I will ruin your life[01:22.10]Shatter your heart make it stop[01:23.14]Beating till you are actually
with that tre 8
So much pound in my back seat
I'm gettin chased by those motherfuckers o p d
Should I hit a condo and lose the bottle
Fuck it I hear
[Featuring De La Soul]
INTRO
What's up world?
Goin' give you a little love right here
My man DJ Honda blessed us with a joint
Three; still on the come up, still growing up
Ain't have a mother figure around to show me love
Working double shifts day and night 'cause life was
nonsense behind me
Mr. Lowen ain't got no dough, that's unlikely
If no be money, shey my guy, you dey whine me
Tell all the ballers, say you're welcome
a zone, J's on my feet
I'm on that Patron, so get like me
I just bought a zone, J's on my feet
I'm on that Patron, so get like me
Er-ery'body love me, I'm
touches the ovum, they call it a human being!
And once that human is born, oh they love 'em! Guess how they treat 'em
They'll often fail to feed 'em, no
on growing
Borrowers now doing the loaning
Renters now become the ones doing the owning
Mr. President where them reparations y'all still owe us ha?
Where they
of my soul
Thats if souls bleed I don't know
Live what you love
I know that
A serial killer walks by you yet you don't notice him
You only notice
you
I get geeked off a Sprite that got no mud up in it
My verses and hooks take ‘bout 35 minutes
Multiply it by ten till you get the backends
Don’t do
Feelin' like
And ain't a damn thing wrong baby
Stagga Lee and we up in the zone
Got the keys to the crib
And ain't nobody home
[Verse 1]
Well I'm a sixteen
a G in the hood, rollin deep dish
(Y'all better peep this) I'm fin' to kill me a honkey
I'm sayin 'Fuck the President, and his flunkie!'
I bet' not
politicians no fit answer
-Who shoot that malu, Mr President need answers
-So many questions wey dey pain us
-Like G boy wey never collect, all the system
Gregory:
Mr. President, Do you know what it feels like
To be a Black person? To be a Congress lady?
HUH!
To be a lieutenant governor?
12 doctor’s degrees
Yeah, man, you know I do too motherfuckin' much, I'm Mr. Go Too Far
They might try to come and supersede me after all this shit I'm talkin'
You
the party shot
Yes the party shot
So mr Dj can you please just tun it up
When we reach by the bar
Yes We sure to shell it down down down
An We doe really
y'all we live on
Mr. President, nice job, well done
Now ain't no terrorists gonna spoil the fun
We can make it right for us
We can make it right for us
thots are super slimy, no escargot
Call me Mr. Jones, I'm counting crows
All by my lone, bitch, I'm always in my zone
Get some dome, then its adios
Sorry
featuring J Treds
[announcer]
Mr. Len a.k.a. Space Ghost please commence intro
Company Flow perform J Treds prepare
El P
honte, c'est bête
En France pas de vice président, le notre en a déjà trop
Les petits restent impolis, parlent mal, draguent ta go
Drive-by, pas d'magot
Capture this funakthon loaded by the Mecca Don
Into the red zone, you spot my skull and crossbone alone
To fill the Watergates, slaughter great,
tech-nical how she nibble, uhh
Ain't fucking with you losers, all my niggas won
It's Mr. BetIGotSumWeed, hey, split another one
Look down upon the ceiling
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