Lyrics:
count a mil' by hand, I'm exhausted
Since we against all odds, bro, you can keep all yours
Shit, we gon' split all mines, forever throw my fours
We
fantasies
Female MCs even rhyme about flipping keys
Couldn't work a triple beam, nah mean?
It seems like keep it real means real bogus
Real fake outta
avenue and place, and my homies servin hard cause they livin by the day, see I do it for my family and hustled by the way, now I'm back up on the block ya
'em run
Since day ones I'm making Opps my sons
And I'll never forget when yo bitch gave me tongue
Like fuck her, ghost her
She want me turn the other
)
They call me Regime, 'cause I'm way clean in stay Beam
Never live in no day dream, bitch niggas wear Maybelline
Throwin up peace 'cause you know that I
Melodically and sonically the best and
Ironically was choir boy MVP
You can't tempt me i used to get head by the
Pews during father franks hour-long homilies
I keep looking over my shoulder, peeping around corners
My mind's playing tricks on me
Day by day its more impossible to cope
Daddy X smokin off
Days are long my nights are even longer
The weight so heavy on my back I can't move
Could somebody help me, where do I turn to?
Since I was a youngin' I
[Chorus: x6]
1 motherfucking 2 motherfucking 3
1 and here comes the 2 to the 3, and
[Lakim Shabazz]
? rappers are full of this, since I'm a Don
to the notorious Southside
One weapon to the four of us
Hidin' in the corridor until we see the beam from car headlights
White boy in' the wrong place
made them both look
Aight, check
White codeine pills with a mixed chick
Next day I don't remember shit
I Sipped green tris in a solo cup
Popped a bean
triple like beams
Bullets
They bouncing like trampolines
Bitches be drooling like fiends
Giving me top like a deuce of codeine
Head might be slow
But she
Or the forming of one religion?
I wonder what came first
Dinosaurs or Darwinism?
Pledging allegiance to a flag
Since elementary
Writing curses in cursive
y'all
Which park, are y'all playin' basketball?
Get me on the court and I'm trouble
Last week fucked around and got a triple double
Freaking brothers
y'all
Which park, are y'all playin' basketball?
Get me on the court and I'm trouble
Last week fucked around and got a triple double
Freaking brothers
with counting money don't need no machine
I can spend a whole day just looking at green
Nah for real it's even on my beam
I'm from the Whitt go ahead
(yeah)
I'm not no rapper, bitch, I put my gun in faces
He put his pen in statements (slime)
Broad day, lil' baby (slatt)
Put him to sleep, yeah, we
a cold world
The other day I had to bury my homegirl
Wrong place, caught one in her face
Plus her man's on the run and couldn't come to the wake
For
on, come on, come on, come on)
A nigga seen it, triple beam shit, brown and green mix
Fiend this, made for machines that kick
Blow ya speakers out,
whipping triple beams
I got a little money
But it ain't what it seems
Been acting kinda funny
Had nights without a dream
Can't see who's on the team
Who
my son
I don't even got no kids
Cause a bitch can't have them by me
That's unless she's the one
Sig with a beam what I like in a gun
Track star get
about my king
I'm same dude same crew since the nine three
You on the internet taking shots at my team
Log off take the plank out ya eye beam
You
I still be watching pornos, eatin' Digiornos
My hormones been runnin' wild since the day that I was born on
Tossed ya, broke it off ya in
and vacuuming (yeah)
Rapping in the booth in a triple fat goose hazmat suit
Bubble wrap and a mask too and
I don't think that's what they meant by trap music
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