Lyrics:
secrets I know I'mma die wit em
You say that them your bro's you gone ride wit em
Just like the patio doe I'mma side wit em
This is for the g's and this is
Dollar for my hand
Diamond for my wrist
Prada on my feet
Steady rocking Louis V
Every time I pull up with my G's
Oh my God you don shut it down
show I'm surrounded by killas
Ready to blow, I don't fuck with hoe niggas
Fuck what he sayin, that's a broke nigga
Chopper on 50, scope came with it
Been
tiny
And you run up behind me trying to get pregnant by me
And in a year, I'll bet you'll be on welfare
Don't cry for help dear, you put yourself
knew her for four days but bout that cash she sonic dash (Zoom)
Call the bitch Kriztah, won't tell you her real name (Uh uh)
I know the feds watching,
thing I've lived by
And it's so real"
Never though a million years I would blow up
Be the one that carries the
Hood on the shoulder
And I'm the CEO, call
"The rapper Ikon be throwing cerebral blows in telepathic forms"
"The rapper Ikon be throwing cerebral blows in telepathic forms"
[Ikon the Verbal
at
Where them killas livin' at and T.I.P. be chillin' at
Ride wit a G, come and ride wit a G, all through the ATL
Come and ride wit a G
See me ridin'
everyday, love me every night
Baby, you another kind
Yeah, you really blow my mind
Never have I felt this way for another
Someone to call my lover
Such
I try and do right but I'm haunted by my wrongs
Homies dead and gone but I still carry on
So I put one in the air respect to all my G's
As my past
(designer, designer)
My bitches all bad (bitches all bad)
They kicking nigga doors (woohoo!)
I do it by myself (do it by myself)
I split it with the bro's
I'm slowly coming back
Like I took a dab like 3 to be exact
Getting out of phase one now we on two
Triple play that lovin' women by the deuce
Blowing
Uh yeah
It's kind of raw what we fighting for
Travel off fueled by the pollywog
Wag the dog
Asinine assassinations get us into world wars
False
They know I'm the leader bro
And I got my reefer rolled
Bank account got hella os
Sit back and we gon blow this dro
They know we incredible
Lame shit
get your tables I roast your whole record label kids
Yo E (what's up G?) Bridge
And you blow my mind, baby
And you blow my mind, baby
(Press
GTS balling everyday
Huh, huh, bottles in the club
Everyday by day, balling everyday
It's a cool lyrics
Big city, big money
Big city, big money
Blow
said it by mistake
My t-shirts make more money than your mixtape
I tell a boy Boy Better
Know it’s money making season
I book a flight to New York for no
the knees, baby blow my mind
[Verse 2: Lyndon Jamez]
Shut the fuck up what you keep on talking for
Come here let me take off all your clothes with your
blow my mind
Shut the fuck up what you keep on talking for
Come here let me take off all your clothes with your permission
Cause you ain't doing
blow
Go blow
When I go blow
Go blow
When we go blow
I know that I go blow o
By God's grace we go o
I know that I go blow o
By God's grace
get your tables I roast your whole record label kids
Yo E (what's up G?) Bridge
And you blow my mind, baby
And you blow my mind, baby
(Press
you're the right choice, my one and only
We're running out of time, so baby hold me
Days go by
Day and night, day and night (day and night)
You blow
so when ya boy hit the eastside
I'm look for the firefied G-5
Aiyyo Pharrell, gimme that VA discount
I'm tryna bounce wit the whole ounce
(Smoke me
the eastside
I'm look for the firefied G-5
Aiyyo Pharrell, gimme that VA discount
I'm tryna bounce wit the whole ounce
(Smoke me out)
The chronic's
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