Lyrics:
off
By the realest MC, and that's me
Joe Crack the Don, I came from the streets
Knee deep in the game, other half in the streets
I got that permit
my glass and shout shanghai
My drummer friend comes shooting by
He said Errol Flynn will never die
Oh no! Who am I to question why?
And are you
don’t)
Beat on my chest like Kong (Like Kong)
I can buy what I want (I want)
We like Marley and Mike (Mike)
Three locks, we tight (Tight)
Stay fly, no kite
Jackson the P won't quit
I'd rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6
Don't make me act a fool (What!)
Don't make me act a fool (What!)
Don't make me
Jackson the P won't quit
I'd rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6
Don't make me act a fool (What!)
Don't make me act a fool (What!)
Don't make me
to have-
Yeah, or, no, it should be
It should be on three dun dun dun dun dun-
But dog, when you get that finished product?
It's all worth it
Begin
choking green by the pound
[Frayser Boy]
I'm rolling with the Three 6 let em peep this
Make the heat spit Leave em speechless
You don't won't no beef trick
baabi ka yehu nsem bone a ohyaye soo
Our success go come sooner
By 25 wanna pull up in a beamer
I said to myself se manhye hwee kraa mpo de no be 5
you're leaving out leaving then we're Even
I'm more than your average joe I'm a savage
Keep your mouth closed or I could open your open casket
Quotes from
Chorus
Verse 3 (Joe Flizzow)
If I had mad loot, I'd fill my storeroom wit Tim Boots
And start my clothing company sellin' see through
Negligees
versatile like dem Jackson's call us Bo
We break the bat while making hits, so records got no hope
Young CEO, don't forget the Mister by the VO
Was taught
no imitations
Dre losin' his stack is slim as chances
Of Michael Jackson gettin' his
Black fans back my reputation's like a TEC-9
Knock out the best in
Barkley posters
Got no time to be boxing around
I got the ox and the pound
I'll leave you in the box in the ground
Got the keys to the game, and we
I've really got the news
Windows open, windows close
Ask them once, nobody knows
Ask them twice, nobody shares
And by the third time no one
myself than my situation
I wonder if the things I did were just to be different
[Verse 3: Joe Budden]
Naw'mean?
Yo...
I understand some's off 'bout me,
rap, but I aint a Hindu
Finna hit the mic like Joe Jackson
Nigga I scrap like throwback, son
Still fuck 12 like aint no ruler
Nigga my bars make you call
Steppin' Out - Written By Joe Jackson
Now
The mist across the window hides the lines
But nothing hides the colour of the lights that shine
Monroe's middle names, not to be
But, next, John Adams had a middle name which was Quincy
Andrew Jackson, middle-nameless
Martin Van Buren, the same
But,
got all the flow
I owe myself for all the credit
I'm not thanking a foe
I got it now you best believe that
By tomorrow I'll be doin
My Show
That's how
Jackson five, give me one more chance
Ben E. King , stand by me
L'R&B moderno e la voce di Alicia Keys
Pronti o no? come Lauryn Hill e The Fugees
Passata la
a myth
While I’m on the toilet writing flows, I’m the shit
No I ain’t been generic so don’t call me by Joe Smith
You ain’t gonna kick me out, gotta wait
give a shit, people come and go
It's 24/7 "fuck it" mode
I'm not a player like Pun and Joe (Yeah)
I just happen to crush a lot
Going for rounds like
Smacking on that monkey guess I had no table manners
Jawels on my neck and my wrist look bluish
Put an arch in your mine check back at Louis
Her man
Spillin OG Chink, I just mixed the Tek with the Peach. You can tell it's on me, real nigga Flowing in my genes! I ain't no scammer nigga, serving three for
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