Lyrics:
Okay, okay, okay
Countin' up my bodies, damn, the things just start to pile
Judge me how you judge me, take them out to trial
A hundred, how them,
standing with us and it shows
Push come to shove you know
Life in the seven hundred and two made this path
Hendo day ones used to have my back
Gave me
bombast of its breast
By which I knew upon waking
It was telling me
In no uncertain terms
To bellow forth the tubas and sousaphones
The whole rusty
Honcho man GV Honcho man Young Honcho man
Yea yea
Old school, in a old school whippin' wood grain
Ridin' down the street I know everybody hearing me
Elevator on the way up to the top floor
Elevating like Rodman on the backboard
Catch me overseas, somewhere you need a passport
In something foreign
I'm in my own planet now its just me by myself
I don't ever panic now I don't ever need no help
Cant take shit for granted now I want Grammys
with her toes out
Rich nigga, I come straight out the poor house
Trap goin' crazy right there by Morehouse
Dead and Me, Ced and more ahks
Bought
I'll tell ye a story that happened to me
One day as I went out to Youghal by the Sea
The sun it was bright and the day it was warm
Says I, c quiet
need my women in flavors
My uncle said I'm a lover not a player And I need my trees by the acres
Could bind that paper like staples That's how it plays,
in the city
I kicked in the door they ain't wanna let me in
I walked in by myself I ain't brought no fuckin friends
I ain't worried bout nobody I'm
don't go
We spit that other shit the Gibson Danny Glover shit
Hundred rounds plus a nana and another clip
Who wanna get it in the chest or the stomach wit
to learn it's not a loss for me to lose wack friends
Lost an old bum bitch, to get a new bad bitch
Hell yeah, that's 100 like a few Jacksons
Got a new motor
They kill me, you gon kill them?
I still got pride
Can I live?
Hell yeah but you still gon die
C'mon nigga you a thug
But I'm still gon cry
And you
ride
They kill me, you gon' kill them? I still got pride
Can I live? Hell, yeah but you still gon' die
C'mon, nigga, you a thug but I'm still gon' cry
I think he a Federal Agent
Looked this n up and found
Him through the Whitepages
Can't judge me by my cover
Open up and read the pages
Can't do no
Dream!
Let me tell you this, nobody survives
And I ain't gon' want this whip when I finally die
What's bad bitch if they ain't by your side?
What's
Eyelids burn in the midday sun
Waiting for the rain to come
Shriveled cows chew withered grass
At least the burning time has passed
Acres scorched by
fratt
Fresh fit stick on me
Doa finished dat Aye
Smoking on za like jamaica
I need to grow me a acre
I'm tryna ball like a laker
Head shot I'll give you
got the tools on my hip
With the matching Lambos, with the shoes on the whip
Excuse me, I'm sick, iller than a bird's flu
Cause I stay gettin' good
anyway, what can I say?
Oh by the way, it's anybody 'kay?
So when you in LA, or nigga round my way
Give me a holler on the 310 or 213, yeah
Accompanied a Coogie sweater the Malabar Teak wood interior
All black reverse doors accompanied by bull's leather
Thats a Rolls Ghost I was broke now I'm trying
even know shit
Interrogated by detectives , but I don't even know shit
Got a show, can't bring my pole, I ain't even goin
Smokin' woods back to back,
The gold of Cortés
The jewels of Pizarro
Will seem like mere trinkets
By this time tomorrow
The gold we find here
Will dwarf them by far
Oh, with all
me a-lingerin' on
While all my younger brothers drifted away one by one
But I couldn't leave him alone.
And today when that oldest son of mine
Got
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