Lyrics:
no drive-by's
We walked over
COB bandana tied to the end of the AR
Iller than they are, rhymes so sick
Give 'em the day off
This is the chaos, Nicolas
Bottom text
Your bitch do want sex
Bust all in her mouth and she asking me what's next
Big checks
I won't love an ex
This prod by Huntaps so you know
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
Hard Times Made Me Dedication
Stay Down Even When My Niggas Hated
Big Shit Poppin Stay Elevated
Get Money Thug Stay Movtated
bastard style has just been stuck
By a sticker with a 'frigerator lickin'
What if how's about why would ever thought that
The napalm would bust your
we don't condone
Better check your hand for you have to fold
Matter of time till they get exposed
Now you back to being just an average joe
What's
the blue is her weed
Trunk full of white, car smell like blue cheese
Dat boy get salad beef bow movement
BM dubs on dem big thangs lookin' foolish
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
Big man big track big time big vibes big work on a big bad album
These bombs be dropping be dropping on your head
Like a burton foot and a old school
Fuckin' blue lights, read 'em their rights
Drama
Drama
Drama
Drama
I copped an alias bailed out in an hour or less
I keep a bank for that don't know about
fuckin' way
But here I am, workin' in the studio
And your album ain't out because you're movin' slow
By the time you make one I'll be on ten
Hit the studio
boarded up
Behind them headlines, what do you see?
I see the greatest transfer of wealth in human history
Seems to me there’s big profits to be made off
of commission (uh huh)
Me fall off? Under one condition (ooh)
Ooh, They gotta find my body dumped in the sewer
Black and blue-r, underneath horse manur-er
C.
lucky, my God! Flight of Icarus in those grubby dirty by now horribly sticky little fingers and
hands and grubby palms, and oh what else is grubby, I don't
grey Mexican suit
The blue eyed traffic can sashay by
'Cause tonight the sailor boys have hit Shanghai
The kick-out traffic goes creaking by
I smash
. .
I seem to make it all right
Sunday morning to Friday night
Then I wind up at this place
Mr. Blues by my side
Ivory Joe once uttered these words
on the floor
Mink dragging on the floor
Flick o' the wrist to whip a Wraith
Flick o' the wrist to whip a Wraith
That's Crack & I
Side by side in that
and dump the burner
Dirty Old Man the dark net Nat Turner
We be banging mics, and catching like
And knocking lights out
Everytime i see you on T.V.
All i
calm when
I'm about to split your arm in
Put a hole so big in your noggin
That if you God body, you can fit the whole sun, moon and star in
You starvin'
the snow, hey-oh!
Viewtiful Joe, I rumble, ayy-oh!
Look at the days, look at the days, how they going by
I be stargazing but I’m ‘boutta make a devil cry
If I
It was down in old Joe's barroom, on the corner by the square
Where the drinks were served as usual, and the usual crowd was there
On my left stood
how we be
Yo pass the bong
It's the return of the king like the lord of the rings
I'm back in this bitch and I'm doing my thing
The Joe and B. Crowe
they know and shit
And on that note, I keep it G
Like track four, "Kick in the Door" by Notorious B.I.G.
Don't believe me, look that shit up, I
relate homes, I'm on the fucking streets
Believe it or not, I'm sure there be calmer situations
When dirty cops approach me joe, I'm on probation
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