Lyrics:
with his cousin
His homies bagged all kind of crack
Corey went home to his family on the daily
His homies had other niggas around, he knew 'em barely
Not too many back home could do this
Came a way from febrezing my old fits
Not too many back home could do this
Said he shooting, that nigga ain't
home! Ahahaha! Ah oh, why do I want to go home? Oh I don't
know, I've been in here so long, oh I'm stuck to the chair and all that kind of good stuff...
Yeah turn me up some
Yo this like the 4th tape by now nigga, you already know I'm coming
Don't care if I live
They want me to die
If this is the end
Chipmunks roasting on an open fire
Hot sauce dripping from their toes
(â??Oh! That tickles!â??)
Yuletide squirrels fresh filleted by the choir
wild, think they bitch ass ain’t get smacked
I’m hot, but I gotta cool down
I got too much to lose now
I got too much to prove now
Little brother
myself
Yo man I'm horny Manlo knows how to help
He ain't too bright but Dave is fuckin strong
Laying thar pipe right w/his ebony shlong
Over worked day
Big H presents Bloodline militants dJ Marcus
Boy Better Know
Bossy, I'm on a tussle
But I will lick down a man
If he's got too much muscle
Wanna be
this East nigga (yo, yo, you, you hatin')
Get the fuck outta here, man, for real (Dave East is hot, he hot)
What kind of shit is this, man? (He hot
You like I'm hot?
She gon' recognize a pimp
Gon' get up!
Do or Die and Twi-ista
All about the fetti man
One nigga
Anyway you see me puffin' on herb
Got
sometimes I ask myself
Will the violence ever cease "Oh my God"
(You know you gon' like it, Kalonji, Wyclef)
It's too hot on the floor man "Oh my God"
The Golden Gate I've been everywhere except every place I'm always here with my face watchin' TV with Dave And now it's too late Accept my fate Hot Pockets 'n
from ashy elbows, to loungin on Melrose
Stayin in the best suites for weeks
In (?) sheets, alone while you cryin at home
By the phone, hopin I'll
form to be this blessed by the lord's force
And still do the devil's chores
I catch the air jordan in, any sport
Any sanatorium or morgue can't hold
Walkin' up 23rd Street i was tired and alone
It was late my housemate
Would be asleep when I got home
The sign ahead glowin' red
Said the Chelsea
the stench of hot piss and
Death. Death
Flailing my bony limbs into the grips
Fall into their lips
Ass cracks and anthrax
Bathing in the mud
And caressed by
legit
On the low I got it lit
Think they hot but we blowing out they shit, candle
Opps be broke I'm feeling rich
I want money by the handful
Got em
finesse now they curious bout' the cake
I'm wit Seth and them by the lakes
I'm Dave Chapelle I took a break but now
I'm back up on bully niggas cappin' I'm
Eighteen days at the luxury hotel, bothering the hotel staff and
Slowly tricking them into thinking you really work there, and
You think you're Mister Hot
Married men act totally different
When they by themselves, don't they?
You see them with their wife
"What's up Tony?"
"Hey man, how's everything
Space is wavy, follow form it, analyze it spectrally
The specter in the spectrum
On inspection is an entity
You call it god, or man, or woman
Love
went from ashy elbows, to loungin on Melrose
Stayin in the best suites for weeks
In (?) sheets, alone while you cryin at home
By the phone, hopin I'll
of overwhelming senses
If the strobes get too strong
Focus on the rhythm to lead my attention
Eyes closed, let the sounds guide my mental
Don't wanna get lost in
along the way
It's been a long, hard haul on the motorway
But if it gets too smooth it's time to call it a day
(On the road)
The bed and breakfasts
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