Lyrics:
where props
Are due big shout-out to
Diddy, Chris Paul, and Kanye for
Coming to see me, especially with
Their schedules i know that they had
To go through
it on a platter, leave ‘em all in tatters
Sympathy for Mr. V, that's what really matters
Just desserts, Baskin Robbins, they must've forgotten
These
in this life would I care if you like it
Especially 'cause these man like it
The way they bop heads every time that I'm rhyming
All this talent I'm
but I'm just lost
Poppin' tags, spendin' bank, it's really coverin' Lacoste
I call that hoe, my baby, till I realize I'm the boss
By just sittin'
whole time
It ain't nothing like my hometown
When somebody got something you want
All you gotta say is
That's where the hook come from
I'm tryna shake
and Steve Hart bid farewell to the hostages in the hotel telling them
they could go where they liked. Then Ned escorted Trooper Richards back to the
barracks,
trustin' nobody so I took my money with me
'Cause last time they got me, get me
I said I'm Young by the way, the one by the way
I ain't trippin', I just do
Your Father
Their Father
Wale
I they care for my guys if them they sapa
And the feeling's vice versa
I no fit use you to gara
I love all my homies,
on the counter in the kitchen
This better be that niggas bitch reachin' for my zipper
Cause they figure there is no way that my dick is big I beg to differ
If they
gettin murdered by
the D.A. says they got me on a felony
I'm tryin to live my life, so what the fuck is you tellin me?
The streets are war, that's what
doin' shit they said they wasn't
Ever gonna do like knowin' I'd fuck the bitch that she was close to
Still gave up the ass and dough, she was supposed
doin' shit they said they wasn't
Ever gonna do like knowin' I'd fuck the bitch that she was close to
Still gave up the ass and dough, she was supposed
loved that car
Black and white leather trim like Waylon's guitar
They don't know how I feel they don't know where I've been
They don't know if I'm real
where you ain't been
No reservation
And most hoes be so-so when they hold no make-up
Yeah, I got the flow that they know is the truth
It's getting
getting shows
Make a lot of money
Never trick to these hoes
Pay for that, not me, no hell
Y'all the one that bring the c notes out
This is KOD, now they
32 is dead
Let's keep it going on
Let's see what happened next
Next day all three of us went driving by our new address
That brand new whipple home
they do is this
All they do is this
They get off on holdin' folks hostage
They good, fo' casin' malls and leavin' broken glass
Where you park? Them
they do is this
All they do is this
They get off on holdin' folks hostage
They good, fo' casin' malls and leavin' broken glass
Where you park? Them
stall
Stutter, softer than melted butter
There's no other word, go ask your mother
Hard solid as your city
Born in Brooklyn, can tell by the way that
People thank you, I do this for all the mean creators
I was someone who never needed favors to get where I'm at
Now they deem me a savior
But to be
change uhh
This here ain't my scene so baby leggo
Only with me cause I'm at
The top like a falsetto
Why these lames hatin' am I really that hot
Do they
a duff
You can miss me with that riff raff shit
I just get my money up
I could never have enough
Ye studio wale gangsters
Always thinkin that they tough
I was always taught to get it
All I know is how to get
Where was you
Where was you
Where was you
Where was you
I flipped that pack by my lonely
live shit from front to back (that's good, it's all fucked up now, right?)
To my niggas in the world, where the fuck you at?
Where my niggas is at?
.JPG/196px-Walle_Georgetown_(cropped).JPG "Wale")
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