Lyrics:
on your eighth LP, I'll show ya
You're wack nigga, face it
In the history of the game, you have no placement
Liquor and weed just massacred their mind,
brotherhood)
Weather you are in the states
I don't see a Nigerian, I see an African
I don't see a New Yorker, I see an African
So by keeping the African identity
they call the Master Gee
Well, my name is known all over the world
By all the foxy ladies and the pretty girls
I'm goin' down in history
Took 'em on a movie, called it "Bubble Gut"
Big dawg, we'll hit your gunners up (slatt, dog)
Come in first place, not the runner up
Came from
dreams have been shattered?
What trials have come your way?
Is it a life that’s been battered
By the storms and pouring rain?
Well Christ had a cross
Just
Our story begins in a Los Angeles mansion
That aging artist Mike Posner is
Renting for the week
He's in LA to write songs for other
More famous
got bonds mixed with liquor
Trust me T.H.C makes them better
I roll with packs that cross borders
Well none of us are perfect, I guess thats why we
Say you're rare
Are you really? White shirt DSquared
Say you're rare, Mike Amiri, over here
Where? Dressed in all white, all white
Who don't want
I go by M-IN-E-O, but it really don't matter
Bury me with no tombstone
I want you to know my daddy
We don't seek Him, He come after
We don't reach
showing off/
Im so free these pussy’s think my soul is lost/
I count time like mayan calendars and I hold the cross/
Chorus:
Time flies by in a blink
Try me might fight
Fuck bitch Like Mike
Poppin pills like Mike and Ike
All that bullshit I don’t like
Try me bitch fight
Wrist heavy get it right
attack
Don't swim in the waters where the Sharks is at
That's easy cookies there's no art in that
So now I'm hustling that work off by the Go-karts
Me
gon' screw dat)
[Mike Jones]
I'm from the city of the codeine, candy paint with falling screens
Diamonds in my grill and ear, you know I live
my own eyes
A little vision of the truth in a world of lies
When it comes to coming off, I like to get my fill
Well, I got the skills
I got
ain't no stoppin' them shells
You doing shows everyday but you ain't clockin' no mail
I'm in the A T L fuckin' with killers and thugs
Just book me
We're one, two, three, four, five MC's
I'm Melle Mel and I rock it so well
And I'm Mr.Ness because I rock the best
Rahiem In All The Ladies' Dreams
cross the line taking Shots at me thats just shaq level In a free throw
So if you're nice, I'm double Trouble
Fuck Dax, I'm that black rap Devil He's
slang shots
Hit G spots by giving hoes back shots
I'm a young country boy, long socks with flip flops
But I pull up on your block in the 500 Benz drop
able to control this?
I know some fok' that live by the levee
That keep on telling me they heard the explosions
Same shit happened back in Hurricane
The stop sign don't make that right
Cause the cops hot that's all we know
It don't make that right
Brenda's got a baby
Well Brenda's got 4 matter in fact
1-2-3, 1-2-3-4
How many niggas in my store
Tell me who got the dope or the liquor
Cause it's the truth
When i talk to the liquor i feel like I'm talking
bartenders mix liquor
I serve you over the rocks, I feed you to my flock, now time to click triggers
Manslaughter in alphabetical order for four quarters
raw
empties
Cross your friends pence on eyes
Cross your arms and stand by
Lips together forever
There's no I or you or you in school
Do what you can toe
be peace
Are we destined to grief over loved ones left dead in the streets
It takes a second to see
We ain't doing well and we never may be
Are we
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