Lyrics:
Dre, he a Compton-Compton O.G
Nas, he a QB-QB true G
Do the history
Way before The Firm, like back in the day
Nas was the first New York nigga
Dre, he a Compton-Compton O.G
Nas, he a QB-QB true G
Do the history
Way before The Firm, like back in the day
Nas was the first New York nigga
This isn't your average song
This isn't your average song
Your average song is three minutes long with a consistently smooth groove
a catchy tune
chocolatey whip-toppin'
So whether you're hip-hop, Slipknot, B.I.G., Pac
Kid Rock, Kris Kross, Rick Ross, you'll dig this
If not then kick rocks in flip flops
4-0-33
(Earl Montgomery)
« © '66 Combine Music »
Well the two new people that's moved to the middle of the block
And we're at the top of the town
diamonds boy
Nigga it's a pretty day, and it's flossin season
Added six tires to my new machinery
Double R like to ball like it's no tomorrow
Pretty broads
to fly
So I'm offering this simple phrase
To kids from one to ninety-two
Although' it's been said many times, many ways
"Merry Christmas to you"
Love
says your dead by manana
Pop babies whisperin' that there's a body dropped, behind the lot
Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block
your dead by manana
Pop babies whisperin' that there's a body dropped, behind the lot
Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block
Medina is
Check out the avenue New York New York the Rotten Apple
We grapple in the streets to stack loot and slip the shackles
I'm currently servin'
make it look easy they break a leg
And I'm eggin' 'em on
Like break a leg and sing 'em a song
I'm John Legend, the new John Lennon
I'm rhyme legend
Some
So I don't condone in that, peace is where my focus at
Long as it don't affect my kids then I ain't gone react
I'm working every chance I get so I can
I hustle to get it my kids gotta eat man I'm putting my people on Momma
I hustle to get it my kids gotta eat man I'm putting my people on Momma need a new house Babies need some new shoes
I went and bought a new chain I
aliens addicted to playing blackjack
I wrote a song about a kid who made his own flick
But got a bad review in Ranger Rick
I didn't want to get lynched
her put her pants on no relationship with me
Ay, it’s a new dance song bullets droppin’ to the beat
These niggas talkin’ like they big but they workin’
anger animal behavior
later on my block rocking with my jocks on
eating Bon Ton chesse popcorn
humming a KISS rock song
socks long to my knees
summer
birthday"
"That's great," said Steve, "someone else will know the joy
Of a birthday near Christmas and getting screwed out of toys
By having two days
the Christmas tree
I'm finna plot
Could I get it like them kiddies
Who had money on da block
Could I make make a million dollars
And get anything I want
Could I
of educate
And, 'til this day, I am still amazed by what this kid decided to do
In this day, instead of his usual play
He had some moves he made
He was quiet,
admit I been tempted by drugs
I admit that I just need a hug (I)
I admit the devil talk to me sometimes
But the devil is not who I trust (yeah, not who
kids get a new theme song
Say it loud kuz you know you’re strong
Let’s not fight let’s just get along
I’m so sorry that you moved on
I’m so sorry that
smile when you walk in?
Did you read the letters that I wrote?
And I've been on the road since Christmas
But it don't seem so long
Outside of that
out the windows of east new york
Was knowledge, understandin when I stoppin eatin pork
[spiritual assassin of zu manchuz]
Yo, pictures record my wonder
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