Lyrics:
bro gangsta stompin'
Acts like he's the only white boy from Compton
If real G's show up, the attitude is gone
Jill forgot that they agreed no coke
mean?
Spend the last on that bag, then split it, that's for the team
I was raised by country niggas shakin' it by any means
Talkin' grits with
closet
Skeletons been stacking up
Ain't no money in my wallet
But my Paypal traffic up
I've been selling by the band
Band tees on my back
Backstreets with
There’s a boy below
He lives three floors down
He like to sew
He’s knitting a scarf that’s brown
When he gives it to his mom he hopes she’ll cry
Motherf'ers can't rhyme no more
'bout slime no more
That five white pure cause I'm so raw
Drip rocks till I couldn't climb no more
Became a hot boy
praying
If my girl don't kill them I'm staying there wit more drummers than a band
Might pull up in a van
Blow once blow twice
Toe tag black bag and a tube
that he got me
And she ride it like a jockey
Ice on me, no hockey
Look
From the 203 to the 415
West coast do be live
Hopping out of jets
Bad bitches by
the fuck they get their employment
Ego is so damn enormous, you would think that it came with a bonus
Live by whatever they told us, hit us with the heat,
me at a young age
And shoved me and my baby brother my mother's way
And comin home late every night
I used to hear him grabbin momma by the neck,
sport, i didn't pout or whine
Took my L's, for every bout of mine
Always rose to my feet by the count of nine
What it was?
Blue hats, orange stars
Hoops,
Meghan joy
Man we need a different view
Education in our nation should
Be school choice
Let the girls be the girls boys be the boys
I'm the Blake Shelton
deal, tryna get things movin'
Independent boy, man's movin' too juicy
Black boy with the smooth skin
Big stack in the bank, who's losin'?
Get food
The show is live
These sad boys got y'all perkin' up
I'm getting sicker, can't you see me coughin' verses up
Only a few games until my flu game
Six
Yo
This one goes out to Black Sheep Gang
Love y'all boys, you feel me?
Look
You never seen the kid this hot
Walkin' 'round, bloatin' 'bout his cock
so hollow
Surrounded by the empty spaces
I remember all the places you took but I'm fading into black
I want you to take me back
Crashing
I sit here by your side
And weep you goodbye,
I'm singing songs of sorrow for you
True gentle rose of mine.
Upon my arm I've tied a ribbon in
between blacks or whites
The vibe is tight big Shaq is on the Mic
So raise up the roof with both your hands wha-wha
And boogie to my pool jam
(Chorus)
poetry
Performed by a Shaolin monk straight out the monastery
Hittin your cranium like two jugs of helium
Blowin you up like explosives on a truck
We were lonely
We were angry
For being tied up to our lives
We always mourned
As the days passed by
We were shatterd
And we guided
By
We were lonely
We were angry
For being tied up to our lives
We always mourned
As the days passed by
We were shatterd
And we guided
By
We were lonely
We were angry
For being tied up to our lives
We always mourned
As the days passed by
We were shatterd
And we guided
By
Sanskrit and Mushika Dynasty it canon, all
You playin' by the basement while
I play the corner
I like a massive body count and
Have my things in order
I rob
ray come get me
What it is yo
Stackin one jackin' like black bums
But got mad money throw us a check
I love Fly-Guys languages and
Niggas who ride high
I'm Lord Jedi Waves at sixteen
Yo, Vinnie, blicky, I'm followed by tranquility
My gun cha cha slide like dance floors into sixteens
Shoot your
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