Lyrics:
should just run up in there with a strap hit the old brudda if he talk back
Checkin his pockets chilling laid back
Cos I knew he ain't have it anyway
half as old as I am
Don't tell me
He could look good if he tried
Won't you make sure of my mother?
Guessed half my weight in gold
Tell her I just
eye like I was Newman
Hi Jerry
I think therefore I am and I'm emulating the legends
By repping it on this cypher and fighting my way to Heaven
Most
obtained in the savage years,
where he learned the binding of a wire hanger to rabbit ears,
every pixel that leaked dead over the carpet,
had to be spit
(spoken, by John)
My father died in the '80s, but in the '40s he was quite famous. He played in the Negro Leagues. He was the first white man
Tracing back the paths of old
Open wounds and ancient scars
Dreams as others so alike
And yet so unique they are
They say it's will that makes
taught by the way old God can change a life
Read the Bible both day and night
See in the dark world Jesus Christ, the word of truth and the light
When you
Him, my God
Let me tell you bout Him, my God
I was walking down a path of sin
But then he made my life do a 180 spin
He cleaned me up yeah he put me in
hookie for a couple of weeks
[Charlie Brown]
Six A.M. and I hear my alarm
Rushed to the phone, I called Vietnam
He's asleep so I leave a message
silly, He's definitely a poet
Hold it
He's a rhythm and poetry kinda poet
Molded by he who holdeth the world in his hands
Golden Keys was need for me
Are you having a good time?
Dancing in my revelation
Underground pop civilization walk to
The left at right
Concrete poetry to feed my mind nods
Old
alone
There’s no story so timely and lasting
But that Christ condescended to save
The will of the Father accomplished
Our path to redemption He paved
it's Christmas
My favorite songs to sing
Birth of a newborn King
Welcome the peace He brings
Merry Christmas to all, this year
Merry Christmas
Patience where's Dorthey
She's late for afternoon tea
And the sun's getting low
She's old enough to know better by now
She's got a mind of her
crops
If my people who are called by my name
Will humbly themselves and pray and seek my face
I go hear from Heaven
Oh yes I go heal their land
And yes I
on, hold on, hold on
This song right here it's my nigga Currency The Hot Spitter (that's right)
Heard me? First artist off of Young Money Cash Money
My dog ain't been right shawty got in his head
Told him to see the veterinarian put you to bed
Full of them painkillers he enjoying his meds
Only
the symptoms and signs
Or what if he's crying
For help from whatever he dealt with inside
I'm sick of suppressing my feelings
I feel like you're pressing my
When I was 14 years old
I heard this band on the radio
They were singing songs about all the small things
And I liked them right away, I wanted
Don't shed a tear for me, I stand alone
This path of destiny is all my own
Once in the hands of fate, there is no choice
An echo on the wind, you'll
In a hospital bed with stiff linen sheets
With a tired old voice he's starting to sing
"Have I done any good in the world?"
That was years ago, I
whenever you need
Like whenever you chose
I sport sheen on my face when I ride by the place that I rose
And I’m still on my toes
With a rope on my neck that
don’t what I been through
They on the outside looking in
Tryna judge a nigga by what he do
“Run up the Bag
Fuck Corona
Cuz I’m get it
Choppa
killed a Man
You ever felt a corpse grow cold in your arms and
He the only son so you gotta call his mom and
Tell her it was a drive by, but you know that
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