Lyrics:
[Yung Joc:]
Ay you know what, eh-heh
When I started recordin this album
I said I wasn't gonna do a, y'know dear momma type of record but
I felt
With all them bitches with the big ol butts
Shaking that ass for lames in the turnt down clubs
If you ain't 21 I'll get you a ciroc just watch out for
Creed
They gon' watch when we pull up, Cause you that bitch, I'm that nigga
She somethin' like my trap queen, The way we run up them racks niggas
I go by
Bowser, big ol' boss
I'm the juan, Mexican
Shoutout to my mom and pop
Cuz they raised a fuckin' monster, Mike Wazowski Randall Boggs
Bitch, slob on my knob
This for all my fans that say they want that old Vic
I've grown too much to ever be the old Vic
I'm new and improve call me Vic 2.0
Still making
his head to his toes by a criminal
But with a sensitive soul, with a set of raccoon eyes
And there's this scene in the show
When a hustler knows he's
thing as a bail
Nor a saved by the bell
When the heat is for real
Better throw in the towel
Before you empty your bowels
And be burned in your own waste
screaming in hell
No such thing as a bail
Nor a saved by the bell
When the heat is for real
Better throw in the towel
Before you empty your bowels
And be
queen's
I come in like a kite
Givin ya paper cuts
Covered in spit
Throwing a fit
Like a babbling bitch
And the thing is
When you're running your mouth
I
Ladies and gentlemen
Please welcome the underground champion
Of the world he goes by the name MGK
And his flow is timeless
Uh, I let it breathe a lil
Here is the song "Am buchaille ban" which Capercaillie do a lovely
version of on their Crosswinds album. I was sent these words by John
Angus Macleod
Look, it go one, two, three (turn it up!)
The Devil's after me (little louder!)
Four, five, six
She's always throwin' sticks (yeah!)
Seven,
we do shows we make the queen pay admission
What!
Chorus:
Canibus: When I say "Can-I" you say "Bus"
Canibus: Can-I
Crowd: Bus
to be whupped, mmm, I love that stuff
Some good ol'fashioned beating, can't get enough
I still beg my dad on my two bare knees
Oh cruel daddy, come
us
Save your best niggas
Me, I'm just invincible plus
I get tough digit's
Used to smoke water and dust, hands clutched
Nigga 2-0-19 Range look like
But nevermind that old money, I'm tryna get a new buck
Buy the nubuck, fresh size 12
And ain't nobody help me - we did it by ourselves
Inspiring
station
I'm just learning by osmosis
Took my lyrics from psychosis kicks
I can't tell you what it means and I'm the one that wrote it bitch
Stand tall with
Spit some killer bars for his majesty
The interstellar King and his lizard queen
My bars too clean so mean had em all like
Yo this kid ridiculous
Spittin
a risk
I'm taking my shot, either make it or miss
Used to be broke as a joke, my nigga that shit ain't no myth
Was raised by queens, but still it ain't
Chicago style is 12 below
Tell me where they sell Girbaud's nigga never sell your soul
Your albums like those finger waves lyrically a green beret
Rip
large checks
Casue we skiddly-dip-dip-do-dep dip dip for effects
Brothers think I'm dissing, but I'm really on the dicks
Look into my album
and ain't trying to find her
You're not minor so little mama I'm gonna name you
Queen Koopa for the night tonight I'm gonna claim you
Picture your leg lifted
8 Bits
Written, recorded, produced, engineered, & performed by Broc Jesch (Breezy)
Chorus
I plan to cut them all into 8 bits an then I will
loosely by the music Which my father introduced me
I watched a lot of movies
And I designed covers for albums
That I made up in my mind
and sometimes my
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