Lyrics:
lost in it
And I don't ball, but I make Kenny Lofton hits
I'm on some shit. Two bars'll off you quick
Like "aww you quit?" Get killed by this awesome
Birds and Benji's I get that shit often
Snaked by some niggas that's still tryna off me
So I bought a Jesus piece walking on water
For all of my
to the 5
I can't possibly decline, man these jewels are fine
That's how I got all my riches, by pimp slappin' you bitches
Mr. 5 is in the buildin', and he's
Rebel, renegade, must stay paid
Not by financial aid, but a raid of hits
Causing me to take long trips
I'm the original teacher of this type of style
Real love don't have an image
Not magic witness by havin’
Bitches or grabbin' riches
If it's about your own self-validation
You’re bound to fail
shit
The Narcs about to hit
His habit made em tell
Officer and the law,bastard crooked as hell
They lookin for Terrel
Mixed him up with Derrel it's 2
wack, they all see me
Warm up two like some hot car seats
By the end of this year, I'll buy a TV
I'll be on TV, on a tall HD
I'm living that life and I
Yo what's up guys welcome to the Nasy podcast
It is your host, King Squishy
And welcome to this lovely album we call "The Youngins"
So today I got
and stomp your feet
By the end of this verse
You gon’ be sick of me
And until I hit the hearse
Lord, quicken me
I’m producing this flood
That’s drownin’ thee
that we could open pores
Flows cold as Jack Dawson toes floating on the door
It's only two ways out, you better hoop or tuck
I gave em hits off Eddie
, that's what my cousin Meechie say
But we could pull about five, I'm talkin' five, that's just by either way
Five million for my album, that's an easy
and four chords repeated
Completed by a relatable lyrical concept about an ex or something
This isn't for the masses
It's for the
musically analytical
So
Mmh uh
Ain't yellin' cut when it's shootin' time
Sign up, it's recruitin' time
Big wigs with a suit and tie
And them big things got two inside
two now I buy six later please yes
Here it take two I finally get my money then you meetin' Jesus
He fresh front row next to Julia
32 shots, hit you
getting pass-ons, be by-gones
Nevertheless is definitely hit and hits are what we strive on
We feel this way every single day all day
So make way
Was
managers
I sit by the phone but I haven't heard
Two spots and ten thousand challengers
And I know that money's for managers
But goddamit, art is for amateurs
can't compete
Pussy nigga check my physique
I'm a freak, made 3 albums in 6 months
I'm so unique, I'm elite
I'm prestigious, got two hoes in the same
This is your album, so that means you definitely got to get funky, so run it
[The D.O.C.]
Swinging, singing a brand new rap
On a rhythm concocted by
stalker
Words thrillin', so real they're chillin', the hit author
Gettin' louder than a shot gun, you don't want none
Rhyme pays was the name of the album
hoes
who knows where the night might go, hit the doe
like yeah, blinded by the glare of the strobe light
see something i like its going down on sight
chicks and get some digit's
And the DJ's playing them hit's
"Oh, this my jam! This my shit!
We don't know a word to a verse
All we know is the chorus
To all the coons, I say "Hi!"-de-ho
Produced by the mighty pro
Crazy Kay Gee kickin' hit's like Karate Joe
Always with the mind every time to
Blame it
at your engineer:
A Japanese guy with glasses on with straight leg jeans and a beer
Got you on Hit Factory with four groupies with acne
Thinking you
she was a freak
Her album flopped, it only did two-thousand the first week (that's it?)
She put a record out dissin' Quavo, bad timin'
Honestly she
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