Lyrics:
to get popped by a cop?
Who the next n**** in the hood to get shot?
I hope it ain't me, so I'm strapped up in bulletproof
N**** on my stomach see -
From the album fairytale
Cat's a-sleeping in the sun,
Eyes take heed the colours call.
Sunlight patterns touch the wall,
Red kerchiefs sail
takin' subliminal
Cause they can't get what I got's
They want it so bad, four million dollar pad
And enough to retire off two albums, gone, wave ya' white
another heart (to have and hold)
All I want is a friend I can talk to (soul to soul)
Oh soul to soul (soul to soul)
Like an album on a shelf
Tired
stalker
Words thrillin', so real they're chillin', the hit author
Gettin' louder than a shot gun, you don't want none
Rhyme pays was the name of the album
62 in 1959
-Words and Music by J. Leslie McFarland and Aaron H. Schroeder
(Ooh)
They did the Wang Dang Taffy-Apple Tango
They did the Wang Dang
to get by the dope dealing, fatal killings
In fair times so writing rhymes
It ain't just the police
We kill each other just lost another brother
Fast
This is how I learned it from a Time-Life Album in about 1958.
There's a little rosewood casket
Lying on a marble stand
And a packet of old love
dance like if I was Albert Alien
People just love it when the Biz starts to play
With my (beatboxing), and by the way
Skeezing with a girl is
position # 1 for 3 weeks in 1975
-Words and Music by Curtis Mayfield, Calvin Carter, and Jerry Butler
-charted in 1960 at # 7 as "He Will Break Your
(tell 'em girl)
Hey yo, my rolls be Liberace
And my bedroom is off the hook all day, designed by Versace
Y'all just watch me, this is how I blow up
now)
Started with a dollar and a dream!
I was fathered by the bastards
Pardon my mannerisms
The Curtiss magnet that managed without the metal with him
Felon, fights behind me on the intersection
Sex and drugs my anthology on perfection
Dress superb admired by conspirists
Who wanna try me but ain't high
Shit, tired of gettin' shot at
Tired of gettin' chased by the police and arrested
Niggas need a spot where we can kick it
A spot where we belong,
old back room
He'd bob his head and say, "Damn, oh, that's you?"
But by The Black Album, I was blackin' out
Party at S.O.B.'s and we had packed
a publicity stunt? This should be fun
Last album now 'cause after this you'll be officially done
Eminem killed by Eminem
Matthew Mitchell, bi-, I even have
Y'all know me, still the same O.G.
But I been low-key
Hated on by most these - with no cheese
No deals and no G's
No wheels and no keys
No
Ok alright
Hey this song right there
Was off the first album I ever made
It's called Reasonable Doubt
Also was fortunate enough to be
Blessed by
Y'all know me, still the same O.G.
But I been low-key
Hated on by most these niggas with no cheese
No deals and no G's
No wheels and no keys
No
people to buy
Well how's this for a publicity stunt? This should be fun
Last album now 'cause after this you'll be officially done
Eminem killed by
Shit, tired of gettin' shot at
Tired of gettin' chased by the police and arrested
Niggas need a spot where we can kick it
A spot where we belong,
I got by
Creflo pray Mike Vick payed bobby brown stray Whitney lost weight
Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write
That Mayweather money looking funny in
All the girls that hold it down, getting beat on by they man
Respect women, I don't care if they a 2 or a 10
We don't beat on Kat Stacks, we just
boy
On the outskirts, of what works
Live those who go for broke, and merk to get merked
Live by the sword and die by the semi
Not part of my ways, but
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