Lyrics:
a couple bad bitches
In the back of the 'Lac
You know the deal, let me get it up RattPack
How we live it up
Little bit of Hennessy up in the cup
All up in
as a pig would attack
One little black when he ain't strapped
And his hands is cuffed behind his back
Fact that I riddle a rap
That is so lyrical that
leave a
Pack of your favorite smokes
And we’d take the by-ways to
South Alabama and run those great big
Hills to the great big blue
You sound like you’re
still the fucking man
Fuck you saying? Niggas in the little league
Still pitching under hand
Guess I’m swagged up, and my block on
Gucci belt diamonds
MISUNDERSTOOD
A LITTLE BIT BAD AT BEING GOOD
WE'LL GROW OLD BUT WE DON'T WANNA HAVE TO GROW UP
WE LIKE CARS, GUITARS AND SWINGIN' DOORS
BASS BOATS, GUN RACKS
is on the soul
And I play by giving names at everything g that shines around
It's all right it's all right the creation is making us so deep
It's all
going home to my city by the Bay
I left my heart in San Francisco
High on a hill, it calls to me
To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars
and run
I do this for fun, enrage Doc Banner, you’re done
Smashin’ through your nine-car garage
Crash the Rover, jack the Ac’ and stop by for a massage
going home to my city by the Bay
I left my heart in San Francisco
High on a hill, it calls to me
To be where little cable cars climb halfway
Stand
Nah you wouldn't understand
It's hard being young from the slums
Nah you wouldn't understand
Guns, the drugs are blue as your bravery
Listen up here's a tale about a white kid
That had to make some cash
Dropped out of school ain't never went to class
Sold a little grass, robbed
[Verse 1]
I remember waking up
Running down a dirt road
Morning dew a shinin', watermelon by the wagon load
Little baby brother and my sisters in
and blues
But now I need a little give and take
The New York Times the Daily News
It comes down to reality
And it's fine with me cause I've let it slide
I
a plain jane to a blue face cause I've been 1 of 1
All these niggas tryna copy my still little boy I've been 1 of 1
You ain't one of us
Get your ass hit for
the rhythm and the blues,
But now I need a little give and take,
The New York Times, the Daily News...
It comes down to reality
and it's fine with me 'cause
the Alpine play
Bumping new shit by Majik Ninja every day
Ayy johnny Blaze I got the hottest hit's
Y’all be hating like a lotta bit
Go ahead and quote me boy
Karl Marx till your blue in the face
But if you've never left the house with a tool by your waist
And your shoe tightly laced, Cos the feds might give
to my city by the Bay
I left my heart in San Francisco
High on a hill, it calls to me
To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars
City under siege
Big bank take little bank, kids over heat
It's a million degrees
Fahrenheit at least
These sides going to war for you, better
a man who told a lie
With a twinkle in his eye
People came from all around
To stand by his side
People will sell their souls away
For a little false
Like little ceaser when he seizes
Like leading sheep from feeders
In the stereo receivers led by Bobba Gunush (--that's gotta be wrong)
Directfully
going home to my city by the Bay
I left my heart in San Francisco
High on a hill, it calls to me
To be where little cable cars climb halfway
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