Lyrics:
[Verse I]
Dear Slim, I never wrote you or been calling
My name ain't Stan son nah we've never met and
My name's KJ let me begin by introducing now
2 AM the beats played about a thousand times
My minds stuck on just doubting lines
To my surprise, I've just been compromised
The artist now lies
In pain if that's what I would feel
Maybe this is Karma knocking, I'm starting to cause a lotta problems
I'm Dying 2 Live, but Satan is tryna just do
"monkeys on parole"
And how many copies did the first album
"mop: to the death" sold?
And if "how about some hardcore" went gold?
What up with these r&b
Adidas motherfucker
[thug] Saturday Night Live, John Travolta ass motherfucker
[Keith] Suck my dick
[thug] You fuckin spaghetti and meatball eatin
top back in the new westsell
5509 girl I live real well
Got the michellin s rims what up sprewell
Swaggerlicious baby something like a pimp
Ha, you know
his daddy name was Blunt (uh)
Got hooked on the stones (uh), rehabbed for a month (uh)
By the time that I was five, my mama was traumatized
'Cause
mob block live again
Look at these whips we're riding in
Making ball and look easy baby, we don't practice like...
Sliding in I'm never super post
mob block live again
Look at these whips we're riding in
Making ball and look easy baby, we don't practice like...
Sliding in I'm never super post
the darkness that greets our pleas?
2:
Trapped in my skull, sanities locked inside
Can't express my feelings, the pain I must hide
My body possessed by
when they said I wasn’t
I replied that I can
For real, so you can never
Ever pick me apart, son
Cross me if you want I’ll still
Live forever like God’s
narcissistic
Plus a shark at business
My art is dark and twisted
On the roof I'm getting chased, by two cop vets
Trying to memorize my verse for DjBooth.net
conspiracy theories say they know I'm ok,
I'll drop seven more albums by my ghost from the grave
VERSE 2: SUFFA
I wanna die in Memphis like Elvis,
Senseless
Ha ha ha ha hah, I'm laughing with my mobb
While you remained confused by me
The Prodigy
You put your verse I put my verse in
We see who really
to live even if it means leavin u for dead
cuz niggers like u get scared lip the lupos pick the fone up and dial nine uno uno
wat happened to them cruel
album on the shelf?
[They call him Lil' Flip]
who went platinum with one video?
[They call him Lil' Flip]
who smokin dro in every state he go?
[They call
will live forever, my fame will be maintained
Now some can't feel this, and some feel can't that
But all can feel a track that's produced by Battlecat
So
live just try to
With tight pants so she could show off the spine behind her
She fine but finer is the dime beside her
Lost a friend but Jennady
look at my money, like it's not mitunkne yeah yeah
Homie I come from the street, live my life by the rules
If I owe ya I'm gon' get ya, might be ten
to grindin'
On the Eastside
We ride
And Drive-By
And if you actin' live, kiss yo' mama and wave her bye-bye
I try
To get along and it don't work
I love to hurt
"monkeys on parole"
And how many copies did the first album
"mop: to the death" sold?
And if "how about some hardcore" went gold?
What up with these r&b
waiting for the yobs
Panashe just came from h-town she deserve a tour
Live from the benches and I know
My verses like give you heaven
That cheese boy
into the ground
Niggas think it’s sweet
I get paid to kill a beat
I got kin to feed
You trolling niggas on your feed
Live in your head for free
Nigga all
a minefield out there
Together we'll push through
Together loosen this noose
We are the reason to live
Let it bubble within
Traps and snares
It's a minefield
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