Lyrics:
And now I started streaming
I been Screaming affirmations
With the meaning
I ain't Fat Joe, got em leaning
I picked up the Mac
And started beaming
I been
at the casino, red or black
Break the rules we'll take you to the room in the back
Swag em', bag em', and tag em'
So much gas that I pack a
Hazmat when I travel
holding my son
Cuz I rather go rap stuffing kush in a backwood
Stay on the Act like Fat Joe ya lean back
My whole squad full of terror we flip pterodactyls
They diamonds are cloudy I'm changing the weather on god
Feel like Fat Joe you know terror the squad
Open the third and see the the mirage
Whole lot
did did that
This is Ghostface Bakery, ya'll ain't cake to me
Pushin' cocaine, Whitehorse in the city
Over Pun and Pac, I cried over Biggie
Spazzed
weed
I feed off the hunger that a bum or abandoned child gets
Freaky, like Marv Albert, in outfits, by Chaka Givens
I lecture how I got God but don't
and niggaz with jobs on the side sell weed
I feed off the hunger that a bum or abandoned child gets
Freaky, like Marv Albert, in outfits, by Chaka Givens
I
Foxxx, Bunchy The Fat Bastard, Naughty By Nature and all the real thugs out there
(Who fi broke-broke an who fi rich-rich)
Keep it comin'!
(Outlaw
inside this room right now
Would be in misery
No one would sing a song or get along
'cause everyone'd be singing for the king
Am I wrong?
I say yo, what's
knees in my room like she praying
I-95 in the .392 yeah we racing
Pull out my sword I kill him like I'm Jason
If he talk crazy we get to erasing
Choppa go
the album drop, you want a sneak peak
You're on the wrong block, this a one-way street
Hundred grand petty cash in the hotel suite
Move your feet, lose your
you 5 seconds
[Roscoe]
The wait is finally done with, the time is now
YA, like who want it, we in it to run it
The album's done nigga, Volume 1 nigga
a blonde bitch
I got my own fragrance
Powered by 50, goddamn it, I think I made it
I tried to keep it basic
They wanna complicate shit
The feds on my phone
it all from my pops
He taught me to stand up for what I believe in
And what I believe in is of wolf and man
By taking the fallen lamb, harvesting from
Whomp
Whomp
Throw it back throw it back
Throw it back in the room got the bitty in the flat
In the flat YPR stepped in with the smacks
Freaky little
the crowds, of the club, and resumed
At a bar, in the room
As we moved,
We was
Shakin, shakin out
And shakin, shakin low
My hand real low
Round your skirt,
niggas money's gettin' low
But could you come back though, set up shop, and get the fat glow?
Tired of y'all, mostly inspired by y'all
So what the deal
up to the top it a struggle gotta climb
Think im fake ima make you think again
Snap out that world your in start thinking logically
Band so fat got
We can get down, we can we can get down (x8)
It's like that man, it's like that (yes!) (x4)
Check it!
I'm not your average MC with the Joe Schmoe
Feasting on the Blood of the Insane by Six feet Under
Reekomposer vocals by Tony Reviere and Joe Benson
In the dark of the night I search for
money than the principal
And I never made the honor roll
But I'm in the lunch line with a honor roll
You pumping iron in the weight room
I'm
Thought-I-Was-Gon'-Take-Her-Home-But-Left-Her-In-The-Room
Mr. Screws, Mr. Take-It-Off-Now-Bitch-Get-In-The-Pool
Mr. Already-Made-It, you can't come around
Mr. Quiet, shh, bitch, don't make a sound, yeah
Triple see's, 305, be-O-E give us room
Whip the keys (twenty-five!), in the kitchen (cookin' food!)
Baby "We The Best", quit, hate the rest
Dade County,
Okay, I think by now we've established
Everything is inherently worthless
And there's nothing in the Universe.
With any kind of objective purpose
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