Lyrics:
Yeah, it's CMG the album, nigga, you know what I'm sayin'?
History
You ain't never seen this many gangsters in the same squad
You never seen this
settle this
No, you are not my friend, lil bitch
Don't fuck with hoes just like I'm celibate
Album of the year for the hell of it
I say, oh my, oh my, oh
'em right
They love it when I mix the baking soda with the white
Police got me on the run
'Cause they know we movin' by the ton
City to city, state
They said every album gotta have it
I didn't want to believe it
I didn't even want to write it
Cause I don't even mean it
Here's a generic love song
as myself, ghostly individuals
You should listen to my album, and listen and listen and listen
I don't know what I'ma sell or none or that shit
I would say
one-on-one
Take this dope, hit a one on one
Ain't nothing else to do, she wanna cum for fun
I'm by myself, I brung no one
Nigga, she want me like Givenchy
In
that I catch and I throw back
And by the way, give 50 Cent his flow back
You that cat in the club that get hit with a bottle
Fuckin' with me? You better
time, I want respect and cash
And a few paragraphs in them books
Tellin' you how us native tongues made hits with no hooks
Rapped in every prefixes, gave
I ain't never ran never will how you feeling yo the fam know the fam know the deal
Hit the spot hit the spot just to celebrate let them hate
I came up from nothing my slatt
Hit up record on the track
Ain't no one better than that
I'm back to makin' my stacks
Eat up a beat like a snack
thousand since I dropped with Wiz
Holy water, Bangkok sippin', I retired this
Worldwide Worthy got them singing like they from the set
Dead Prez Vol. 2 CD
you've been talking 'bout this shit)
(Bro, just drop the fucking album)
Yeah, yeah
I don't belong on this Earth
I see my name in the stars
I want it so
wouldn't be able
Cause I'm the man with the hand that rocked the cradle, uhh
A lot of punk for the chunk baby that's a bet
Album number seven and we still
Unusual fellow
The album's three times dope
Don't hope it's going to be mellow
I'm coming with the force of a county sheriff
Serving subpoenas
hit away
Yeah, whatever goes around in rap
Happens to not come back to me, and I ask you
[Chorus: Royce] + (Ingrid Smalls)
(If I was to die today
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
bring? Nothin' but pain and one in your fuckin' brain
Ain't nothin' changed since the album, I'm still wildin'
I'm still violent I've been waitin' for
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
to the top but I'm still not hot
Even though I got the god damn album droppin'
Album droppin', better get ready
Soon as it hits that shits' so deadly
Better
Oooh
That bass kicks
Just like when paranoia hit
Only one person in the room like it when I spit
Talking bout #1
Maybe more
But I'm not yet arrogant
button
We dropped this album yeah it's really sudden
I don't give a shit about your fake judging
You just jealous bout the beats I be crushing
By the time
so tired
Music is supposed to inspire
How come we ain't gettin no higher?
I know you think that you've got it all
And by making other people feel
Right under em' Vicky clothes
Hit mail roles and shail toles
And wife beatas, get Nike whifee
She in love with addidas
Ma, I'm in love with Anina
Chuck
him well, get him high, he might fuck around and die
I guess you know by now who's number one
Brooklyn, Brooklyn that's where I'm from
(Number one
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