Lyrics:
of first dates?
Are you after some thrill? (Are ya? Are ya?)
We went out on a Sunday
But by Wednesday
I knew it wasn't real
So when you hear this song
Don't
shine
When we see your face
The sunshines, and your son's shine
That look you can't replace
When your son's shine
And we see your face
I pray this
died
Who am I in my place
To contemplate suicide?
In those times I try to remember
That we could be free, truly
If we only knew we were slaves
and sniffin powders
Here we come, straight from the slums, Dynamic Duo son
Ghost Rider Jonathan and Soul Brother Number One
[Chorus: repeat 2X (sampled
that, my son, he graduated eighth grade and we still waitin'
Matter of fact, he hasn't hugged, kissed, or touched any of his grandchildren
And they
showing niggas her rings
I said bitch, I ain't impressed with that
Why the fuck is every briefcase short by at least ten stacks
We had a mil' in each
back and pull strings
Yeah yeah
Used to have that fuckin' title by name
Yeah yeah now that's nothin' but some
Fire to my flame, Yeah yeah
You ain't
, then days went by, then days went by,
Here I am
I Knew Shawn since we was little niggas son since we were seven
Armed robbery, first degree, my man did
the sons of adoption, redeem daughters of zion esteem
A ward out, port out, escort out the loophole I'm a holy ghost, host, host, holy ghost
Host a ward out,
And while chasing an elusive snowflake
That was determined to reach the ground
She bumped into the businessman passing by
And nearly knocked him down
the verse,
That drives death in a hearse,
This might be the worse sickness not seen by a nurse
Being a fiend for the herb!
That fantastic flower
Always be
to gain on that Cadillac.
Knew I could catch him, I thought I could pass.
Don't you know by then we'd be low on gas?
We had flames comin' from out
knew the ropes
I got a blender in my suitcase, can get it to you for the two-eight
Bitches sayin' I'm two-faced, that debit card my new bae
Once that
cold I said enough
Phones been ringing less and less
From the contacts that I've had
Was more than my Patna yea
Seen you like my brother yea
But I knew
to me
We still here,
I did my very best
Oh, oh, but can't you see
Until they work real hard
Uh, I was supposed to have it all by 25
Been figured out
Who are we fooling?
Hell is hot, fire is proven
To burn for eternity, return of the student
That never learned how to live right just by how to shoot
Ight, now, this is how we gon' do this shit
Youknowhatimsaying? Niggaz wassn't out in the streets back then
When was doing this shit son, you
like Michigan
Ayy, look at what we livin' in, here we go with this again
I just keep on talkin', but I guess that you ain't listenin'
Rather run
that, my son, he graduated eighth grade and we still waitin'
Matter of fact, he hasn't hugged, kissed, or touched any of his grandchildren
And they
the beat like it's my only son, my DNA
And this that southern playeristic like we was in the eight
Back in the day, I was young, broke and infamous
that we didn't chill together
We was hangin' in my dorm room, we would write them rhymes
Then record 'em in my closet cause we was next to shine
Even
fuck is you mad at?
I never got to see it, I need it, I never had that
We all go the same twenty-four hours, what you mad at?
Tell me, what the fuck
We didn't know what was good for us
We knew we had each other and that was good enough
And such a hunger for the music that wouldn't budge
Doin this
showing niggas her rings
I said bitch, I ain't impressed with that
Why the fuck is every briefcase short by at least ten stacks
We had a mil' in each
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