Lyrics:
out, I'm the C-A-S-A-N, the O-V-A
And the rest is F-L-Y
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix
And these reasons I'll tell you why
You
and background, and in
their common engineering and
imagining, because the sound of a
field that's worked and played on
by a black family'n'em for a hundred
dropped The Come Up
I was in high school playin' corner
I never dreamt of mumblin' words in front of hundreds
Studyin' plays all summer
I'll hit
soon
Told him we should film it at my desk by the Mac too
Hundred likes on my page
I’mma drop it this Sat. dude
A remix, favorite rapper
A song, called
"The first words I spoke in the original phonograph, 'Mary had a little lamb. It's fleece was white as snow. And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb
Words and music by Woody Guthrie
While we're on the subject of hard work, I just wanted
To say that I always was a man to work.
I was born working
pass you by
I get up, I get down
III I Get Up, I Get Down
In her white lace, you could clearly see the lady sadly looking
Saying that she'd take
to the picnic
Uh
Now my torch lit so you need to forfeit
Always looking for the bigger portrait
I had a temporary setback
Had to get back, didn't wanna force it
out, I'm the C-A-S-A-N, the O-V-A
And the rest is F-L-Y
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix
And these reasons I'll tell you why
You
twenty-five words
And uh, I couldn't do it, I wrote out five pages
And uh, I have it here
It's uh, have it by accident, actually, ha
But-but I, I-I'd like
chains
It doesn't matter if your chain is 10 ft or 100 ft
The fact remains the same, you're still bound by chains
So people say I've changed, and it's
Fuckin' up a bag like its on sight
I'm fucking up that bag
Call up three hundred cuz he got the pressure
Oh wait, we get it together
Come for my team its
We don't need ten thousand men
Just give me that three hundred
Jesus Christ He be the king
For him we gone be running
Running running
We don't need
words nigga duffel bags I just know it so well
I can't help but brag, old man got 10 mail man got 3
And just your luck the rap game got me hold up
their ass cheeks yellin Geronimo
It ain't a problem at all when K solve
Three-hundred and sixty degrees rhymes or boulevards
Are charged, by my entourage,
understand Peadar Kearney's words?
Ireland invented by Declan Kiberd
Revived by Lady Gregory
Wants a portrait from Colin Davidson
But is scared of what it'll
Cops got, guns!
They givin' out life like by the tons
Run! If you ain't do shit, you it
That next felony, nigga, it's like three zip
So, run! Hop
About this time
You know we got you open, don't front
You know the name by now
You know what we want 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
It's Priest mothafucka
You
my way
Hey did you get your Judah today
Negus Nimrod
A word from Yah
I been god
These rappers fraud
And you exposed
Like a nun with no clothes
With
better move
At your front door got word you got work
3.5 for the key of the purp
Now six figures for the set niggas verse
All eyes on me as I'm walking
man got 10 mail man got 3
And just your luck the rap game got me hold up
[Juelz Santana]
Here we go again just spent a hundred of that brown paper
hundred (Uh, huh)
Them new J's was about two hundred (Uh, huh)
The word got back, they know I done it (Tch)
Spent a thou' on a few new drummers
Took it
got demons comin' for my head now
For any of these motherfuckin' brothers gon' play around
With the semi, I'ma pull up with hundred rounds choppas
United and standing tall
Throw it up and rep it watch this
One hundred the Lord call
I'm a hundred with words
And I'm a hundred with birds
I'm a hundred
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