Lyrics:
a fucking unicorn
I'm ready to come out today
With gory details y'all want
Man the fucking balls it takes
To be yourself an go your way
Think you know what
pounds of dro I done blew that
You should of knew that, the Slim Thug gon' shine
My ear rings cost a dime, I read Rolex Times
I'm top of the line, you
to ball
Bottle after bottle and I'm sure you'll count 'em all
Then we off to that Chevy - (Fired up!) and takin off
Baby, slow it down cause you movin
know I'm not a regular person
I know I'm not a regular person or perfect
I feel hurt and I'm doing the hurting
Used to want to ball but you ain't wanna
to the theater set to ill
Buggin' , cold havin' a ball
And somethin' 'bout Elm Street was the movie we saw
The way it started was decent
You know, nothin' real
You already know
This gon' ball the Audemar the way it glow
I keep them stacks in my pocket and
That's all just for your hoe
Now let's go, that's when
need me a whole
Doing 180's, I learned how to pivot
Regardless of views I stay pushing my limits
Don't pay any mind to those fooled by the digits
If you
I knew it, the big mouth broad
That be yoking my balls out, her little brother wanted two bricks
You know that nigga 'Lipps, he Maybach, on 26
All he
MCs, how? To rhyme first
Of course you rap last, so you can show off your skirt
I guess it didn't work on "4 3 2 1"
You got out done by
rappin' broads
She sellin' straight up sex, by the sea shore
We bang beats from boogie down to BK, New York
I sport the finest of wears, your highness is
wear
A red monkey on the jeans, eleven hundred for the pair
Might show 'em how to ball this year, yeah
The dogs the fresh London fog this year
Put
And how can I lack
I was born by myself so I got my back
Ask K Im really on that
Cool and collected you know how I act
32-1 all these niggas is wack
You small time, I ball with mine
Links, minks, Bentley, it's all with mine
My jams bump out to the borderline
UK hot with it, blew spots with it
the last laugh
Coach said come on by my office, I got a bone to pick
Busted out in tears you know how them moments get
He said this year ya last, gotta
so Sinatra
You know my [?] not proper for the Oscars
But I opt out for the Oxfords in the Oxford
Ha ha, that hurts
Some'n by this oar got 'em
myself and the shit feel the same
I’m placing the blame on you
I picture the truth but it framed by you
I’m faced in the books but they made by you
My
not lost, tell y'all hoe's to stop
'Cause the union is in here, toast it up
When they shoot you suppose to duck
Look at them by the bar posing
say she Love you then text another man right in ya face
Hold up pass me the Blunt
Now this shit feel different
Different nigga I'm the trenches I wear
'can you stop by?'
We might drop another bomb
Make it long, 15 seconds in and it's another song
For you all summer long
Blastin' out your speakers
bitch wear a thong
Gay as a hoe that nigga ride dick
Nigga we tight my brothers on shit
Geeked for a lick they trying to come up
Give that shit up or they
taste on men
i can notice by the bruses on her lips
if she gave me a chance i could take her to dance
and maybe be her man
but i’m not even her type, nuh,
pounds of dro I done blew that
You should of knew that, the Slim Thug gon' shine
My ear rings cost a dime, I read Rolex Times
I'm top of the line, you
life
I throw on fresh gear, throw on fresh wear
This is something you will have to throw on next year
Yeah
Hook
J.R. Writer:
Listen scrap, believe me,
a-telling me I wear the ball and chain
My patron saint is a-fighting with a ghost
He's always off somewhere when I need him most
The Spanish moon is
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