Lyrics:
There's a BBQ at John Gacy's house
his neighbors are all invited
With Gacy cooking all the food
everyone will be delighted
To make the BBQ annual
ATTACK like a blue-nose pit off gunpowder (yeah)
And love to soup the beef up just like clam chowder
With my Squad in the house, we misbehave
Get drunk
John Roy was a boy I knew
Since he was 3 and I was two
Grew up two little houses down from me
The only bad apples on our family tree
Kinda
at us now, They chasing our clout
stuck in a loop, When I get up and go out this house, I'm trying to go and make it out
I'm stuck in a drought, got
on everything, that's all a nigga see
I fuck with a bad bitch I'm smokin' on some weed
Nigga got rocks, shout out to the team
Posted in the house, nigga countin'
We in the muthafuckin' house, come on
Well, John Hardy was a vicious little man
He carried two guns every day
He shot down a man on the West Virginia line
I see John Hardy gettin' away,
talent, or is it just luck?
In a small house far from the big ones
Mr. John Doe lived a lonely, gracious life
His wife left him long ago
Took the kids,
the prize to the castleonly to be stopped at the gatesHis very own brother (Sir!) determined (John!) to have him cast away
Gamelyn is not happy with his
and Elvis gel together like cellmates (hey)
Yeah, this the jail house, bitch, and I don't give a
And I don't give a shit about a thing you say
I just
it's the mumps
The plan of the house, the body in bed
And the car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud
A float, a drift, a flight, a wing
(Goddamn)
Pulled before his brother
Put his bitch ass in the house (On bro)
John tried to ack the fool
They shut his mouth (Lil' John)
Bullet gang got
more, aight?
I got charges to file, a whole bunch of them
(It's John Holbrook's fault)
It ain't fair, I wanna tickle-fight the mayor
Sneak into his house
rebound
Cause when your relationship is through
That motherfucker won't hold you down
Now it's time to see what John can do
When I give him a
House
want to be diplomats or continue the same policy - of nuclear nightmare diplomacy. John Foster Dulles ain't nothing but the name of an airport now.
Our houses are protected by the good Lord and a gun
And you might meet 'em both if you show up here not welcome, son
Our necks are burnt, the roads
outside your mouth
I'll put guys outside your house, we the hottest in the South
Bad Boy, Dipset, baby girl, get ya lips wet
Maybach like that chauffeur,
The neighbors pay a call
And Father John before he's gone
Will bless the house and all
How grand it feels to click your heels
And join in the fun
The neighbors pay a call
And Father John before he's gone
Will bless the house and all
How grand it feels to click your heels
And join in the fun
in a drought
That's the reason why we in your house, nigga
Act like you know somethin'
But in that interrogation room act like you know nothin'
Don't
This is a song
About best friends
John Roy
Was a boy I knew
Since he was three
And I was two
Grew up two little houses
Down from me
The only
John Roy was a boy I knew
Since he was 3 and I was 2
Grew up 2 little houses down from me
The only bad apples on our family tree
Kinda ripened
to leave the house, he caught you sneaking out, now he's freaking out
You thought he was sleepin' soundly, whoa
You say you're going for a drive, you don't
got all this paper plus the prettiest faces that's off of our nature
I drive a Casper, s'cuse me Cassper, wanted meet me at my house, I got space like
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