Lyrics:
he got another year
Even the judge wanna see that nigga get cut in there (by a Blood)
Tekashi really told on all of his homies (he a rat)
His baby
confess to the god
I undress you in armor
Star ma - arent i special - sex you
All night, might take a small bite but shhhhh
Chere, u take this hard white
Swizz Beatz
Up in the motherfuckin' Dogghouse
Eastside shit, you know this finna be a monster
Godzilla
[Goldie (Kokane)]
(Everywhere I go!!!)
comin' for my
Dogs in the morning and if I die by a slug
The death of a true thug
Tell me will my niggas mourn
Me? Gettin' blowed out
High, watch me murder
Shout out to them bitches gettin' it in, in they crevices
Conjugal visits make sex seem so irrelevant
Forget about the risk we took, I never can
Rebel
Come back with your money, help, police (Show em' SuperStone)
I've been robbed by SuperStone
(Hooray, Yee-hee)
Dona Pinciotti , got a pistol for a body
gotta scream and shout
(Or you will blast your brain)
When life isn't just
the way you want it
you gotta let it out
USA goes astray
day by day in every
loaded feelin' myself
Right now, I'm not myself, I'm turnt up, got that iron in here
Yeah, I got it right by my belt
Them niggas plan on poppin' him,
the one taking the risk
She gone drop it down low imma pick it up
I got too many flows I might switch it up
I got so many guns, keep my pistol tucked
If you
Anyone In The
Mainstream? La Vie Boheme
Anyone Alive - With A
Sex Drive La Vie Boheme
Tear Down The Wall
Aren't We All
The Opposite Of War
Isn't Peace...
my dick as fuck
You could feel it in between
But if you try to fuck me over
It'll be the worst sex of your week
Hit a hoe for three hours
And she
Mic check, I can get smooth to any groove
Relax the tongue, let my mic take a cruise
Around the planet, pack 'em in like Janet
Jackson, she's
that image
Of your preening self in the mirror (go on)
Sharp-shooter into breakin' hearts
Baby gigolo, a sex pistol
Hollerin' at everything that
that image
Of your preening self in the mirror (go on)
Sharp-shooter into breakin' hearts
Baby gigolo, a sex pistol
Hollerin' at everything that
Shouldn't have had her curtains open, so that's her fate
Leavin out her house, grabbed the bitch by her mouth
Drug her back in, slammed her down on the couch
the way)
I'm the only way
We can fornicate
Ah, pimping and posing
Look what I drove in, ah
Having these hoes and I know that I'm chosen, ah
I live by
Street
Who call themselves The Fugs
In April
They record by Harry Smith doing the
Punkiest songs yet to exist
Lo-fi noisy shit about poetry, sex and drugs
Y'all bitches betta be scared, it's Calipark music
Ying Yang Twins, U.S.A.
United State of Atlanta
We back in this muthafucker by our goddamn self
We
land in the city)
(uh)
New bitch
She's so pretty
(yeah, yeah)
Sex gon make her miss me
(yeah, yeah)
She never been in a six speed
(nah, nah)
She want
you raped my childhood
Just stroll in, roll in your pole into Rolie Polie Olie's colon.
To relax my mind I take a walk by the clock and I pass
you know that sHit's real
Pistol grip pump on my lap all times
I used to drive a Hyundai
With the dimes inside
Now drive by is by the lost
THat kill bay
I'll show you the difference between a diamond & rock. When I'm up in the kitchen I'm cooking chickens by the flock, when I'm whipping the pot, I'm
time to stop for Backwoods, no time to stop for condoms
I can't stop in the wrong hood, on Grape, I hope you got some
Got a pistol all on my lap, I'm
do not rap but I got shit to say from the past back when I was a dope fiend
Up in the trap for a year and a day getting fed by the mouth all
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