Lyrics:
Know I pull 'em out of the crowd and guess who
The band is in place, the cameras are set (ah, ah)
I make sure we tape it so you don't forget (ah)
I'ma
camera rimane buia)
Rodolfo
Oh Dio! Anche il mio s'è spento
Mimì
Ah! E la chiave ove sarà?
Rodolfo
Buio pesto!
Mimì
Disgraziata!
Rodolfo
Ove sarà?
"On Earth as it is in heaven", he types out
Chat reacts, the crowd's going wild now
Stream heaven, your God's live and online!
In a digital world,
walked on]
It’s like running towards a locked door
Or waves crashing back and forth
Finding comfort on the cold floor
Nothing hurts more
Than reaching
god
I kill you with the camera on
It's dawn of the dead and you
Mothafucker be dead by dawn
Guess I'm a little nuts
Like giving nukes to Donald Trump
on
Make it nasty for me
Look me dead in the eyes when you throw that ass back
Bite ya bottom lip when you make that ass clap
And smile for the camera when I
fault, system failed them by default
Grow up put on dad's badge and then they slam Black face in the asphalt
LAPD I hope you don't think that I'd forget
wonder if God will let Trez come home if I go up and give him a bribe
If not I'll go up sit by his side
I just hope heaven has visiting time
I'm so sick
uh, we got guts on the camera.
"The Joker's Wild is brought to you by:" "Faygo!"
Everybody sing! "Send ya' momma straight up to tha sto'!
Tell
When I come back, that's it
You see a flash in the sky, it's that nigga, I
When I land, you wack niggas die
And your casket is your last hit
You wack
Got a picture of your house and you're standing by the door
It's black and white and faded and it's looking pretty worn
I see the factory that I
Got a picture of your house and you're standing by the door
It's black and white and faded and it's looking pretty worn
I see the factory that I
Got a picture of your house and you're standing by the door
It's black and white and faded and it's looking pretty worn
I see the factory that I
Got a picture of your house and you're standing by the door
It's black and white and faded and it's looking pretty worn
I see the factory that I
Got a picture of your house and you're standing by the door
It's black and white and faded and it's looking pretty worn
I see the factory that I
in hell so I ignore heaven
Kicking ladies out the house like a poor tenant
As we go along I get more irreverent
Bring you back to life like epinephrine
through the back door
The murder rate is sky high
Nigga holla ride or die
Youngin' sling that iron it ain't no mo takin' pride
So put yo' fist up in yo'
discovered, can't nothin save me
My next door neighbor's havin convo with undercovers
Put a surprise in the mailbox, hope she get it
Happy birthday bitch,
knock on my door, it's time to explore, I shop digital, I don't know what's in store
Lights, camera, action, uh, I ain't tryna leave you in the past tense
to way down
Then back the fuck up, cause bitch I’m a ride for myself
Lights camera actions on these bitches photo finish
I’ve been getting money sorry for
Kick back, door while im kick in' back doors
Pull up on that bitch, yeah
Nigga thinking' that he like that bro them, kick' in his door
We want
and
Found another heaven
It was you who took my hand
Come into the promised land
You scratched my back and I scratched yours
It s you who makes decisions
I
I worked at the Rialto, I sold tickets at the door
And Oscar he'd come by most everyday 'bout half past four
And he'd pay to see some movie that
clap
Oh but I done that
Oh how I love that
Blood rush to my head pull it out
Da da da da da oh then I buss back
Livin’ like a thug will I make to heavens
.jpg/300px-BackDoorSlam(by_Scott_Dudelson).jpg "Back Door Slam")
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