Lyrics:
the smog real thick
If we hit the highway now, we can beat the traffic
Turn this shit on, head bobs automatic
Thought you heard this before cause it feels
ever loved anybody
Loved anything, loved anyone
Than you'll feel me.
[Chorus]
Your baby got a hole in it
I fill it up
She get turned on by all my
the lessons that I have learned
And it gets hard to live through
'Cause I'm a fully automatic you a starter pistol
I caught a glimpse of reality once I
let 'em 'round when you shining
Red leather seat, but mi gone again
Get pussy automatic, girl not stall again
See, my life, might book a flight last
the passion, my attitude is grim, so
I slip clips in the automatics.
Niggas want to roll through;
No, I ain't havin' it.
The homies are down and the girls
To admit that they played like pity pack
The Asiatic automatic Akhenaton
Might be raw but it's a better paragon
Than any other rhymer unstable
Remains
screens, blindin high blasts
GPS satellite navigation
Automatic lock doors drop jackers to the station
You got beef you get fed to Doc Doom
Goon, you
inside of the livest niggas
Art of War was designed by the wisest killas
Wrote the thug book, only the truth get spit
Took my hooks like you wrote that
[Chorus x2]
[Royal T]
Six in the morning, haters at my door
Fresh Nikes squeeking by the bathroom floor
Out my back window, I made my escape
Haters know
all on automatic
When I get it back together
We're gonna need a little static
Somebody check my pulse
Slap me in the face
Show me what I'm made of
Get
the mind is automatic (hahaha)
grab a motherfucker is my motherfuckin thang
and i slang these thangs like cocaine (i slang em)
and muslims hate me but i
wait we go dutch
Your automatic to me you I can never touch your clutch
The pictures are perfection when you see us roll up
I don't even have a freak out
leg broken
Home, choken by roast a deli slogans
To once, quick to get guns I blow ya open
I'm from the L's of the Murderville
Where we possess
nature, returned, the vapor
Killah Priest, born in the pillar of yeast
Lost in the miscarriage, the automatic of marriage
Pow! Once ya live, ya die
pop duke
And my handicapped brothers and sisters, and we had no loot
That's when the Feds came by
And surrounded the house
They had automatic
die if you have to, you know I'm down
With an automatic bag of chips, the honeybun's out
What channels the revolution on? the motherfucking couch
automatic uzi's wit da tommy gun clips
Make you boys take them paper pep poppers of your hip
Young pimp smoke weed
Don't stoke might sip
4 5'ths
With
bump into the 'Kiss late night
On the Deegan, speeding
In the drop four-thirty, on my way to rock a birdie
With automatic lead in the car, bread in
Hopefully them fuckers won't come back
Cause you'll never get your gun back
And you'll be dodgin bullets by the mornin sun crack
4 a.m I'm smoken weed
Youngsters prostitute themselves
It's all part of the game
Walking up and down the pavements
That bears both stars and names
Automatic fire
I woke up still dreaming
The air was static
My eyes can't see
My senses turn to automatic
So I dream again
The waves have reached the shore
So I
got balls this should remind ya
-ima franchise, right by you're liar, dumb freak divider, fuel for the fire
Thank god hisle, now niggas call a siree,
[Chorus x2]
[Royal T]
Six in the morning, haters at my door
Fresh Nikes squeeking by the bathroom floor
Out my back window, I made my escape
Haters know
until we see you vatos drop
Busting off shots, running from the cops
We don't plan to stop until we see you vatos drop
[Royal T]
Homey uno D, by three
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