Lyrics:
classics
You don't believe well you better check the tracklist
Y'all looking for a feature, I'm looking for an actress
For theatrics, cause every album just
a bad bitch wanna spend time alone
Finna grab her by the throat, 'cause she like when she choked
Yeah that flirty shit, that dirty shit
That's why I stay
I'm sorry! I'm sorry
Anyways, let's get-
Let's start, alright?
We- We don't have enough time
So...that's why the album is gonna sound bad?
You're
recording
Beau said he’d send more details later as he was in session
And now that the album is slated to come out soon I’m curious again
Also Jessica Pratt’s
sharing my views from the window seat
I've tried to keep it light and not get in too deep
But if I don't say this, the album's incomplete
We do it for
Yuh, yuh, okay
Look, I'ma just hop in that big body tonka
I'ma just fuck on your bitch for an whole album
Keep talkin' this shit, you not with
You know that we stay chillin', when I rap I'm always killin' these motherfuckin' beats
Cause you know we spend heat, after this album and I think
old back room
He'd bob his head and say, "Damn, oh, that's you?"
But by The Black Album, I was blackin' out
Party at S.O.B.'s and we had packed
on the map
Yo check one two, this is the voice of yours truly the Flava Flav
And I just want y'all to know, we ain't goin' nowhere
Old school is here to stay
old back room
He'd bob his head and say, "Damn, oh, that's you?"
But by The Black Album, I was blackin' out
Party at S.O.B.'s and we had packed
on (come on)
I'm talking to you, come on the Working Hour
This is the working hour
We are paid by those who
Learn by our mistakes
This is the working hour
away
But this game I play ain't no
Way to fix it it's inevitable
Bills gotta get paid, kids gotta eat
Live by the chopper laws die by the streets
Fuck
the calendar design
Wilderness tours, guided for and by the blind
Cool ruler standing still sweating through the shades
He knew those lights only grew bright
doubt you
I doubt you even know why I left you behind
I know that I've been living
In the city of stars
Where there's these flying cars
A brand new
open that front door
Interscope printed out right by the entrance, door closes
Not a metaphor, then I start towards
That front, that's right, where
assumption
Listen to my album and you’ll feel how I function
Cuz my rap career is vital and it’s under construction
But it’s just me by myself, all alone in
bitch made this shit hot
3rd album I'm bout to drop
Better go cop may just get stopped by a cop
This shit like corn bout to pop
I'm so electrifying I may
up, and realize,
this muthafuckin album (why my homies got to die) is dedicated to all the
niggaz that got a second chance on life, and that's
shoulder... ? Aw, you're fulla shit, man... ah, listen, by the way, before I go on; did you get those white albums I sent ya with the pencil on the front... ?
nuts, then I (yeah)
Check my ball hair (what?), make sure it's all there (yeah)
Then call the pallbearer (yeah)
It's Music to Be Murdered By again, why
y'all to hear me
Not the only one, we all get weary
Cept for the purest soul I've ever known once owned by Benny Tassinari
Benny Taz possess the kinda
Brodie, keep counting, we gon never stop
Banger after banger, y’all ain’t ready for the album drop
Hard times hadda Nigga praying, Lord pave the way
done told you niggas
Nine albums, stop fucking with me
I done told you niggas
The 9 on me, stop fucking with me
You niggas must got nine lives
9th
done told you niggas
Nine albums, stop fucking with me
I done told you niggas
The 9 on me, stop fucking with me
You niggas must got nine lives
9th
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