Lyrics:
music's best
I cruise for the press like
Who's gonna make an album this good?
Daddy, yes
He's the best and it's two six now
Still no one's testin', most
a mack and you turnin
Up the black in you
Skill for skill you the minor we the major
I grade your whole album like
A bad term paper
ZERO, don't be a fan!
hard
That's even tho' yo' CEO talk shit, get slapped hard
The backyard is where we get our scrap on
The black car drive by, then you get capped
Three passports, Three first class tickets to the money
Straight flights
I live by the cold war
Drove from round the globe
All I need is
written by Brenda kid
Prove you the best I'll delete all the evidence
I'm In the league with the legends and
I'll shake the game up ill etcher sketch
Y'all
motherhood
And we fall out of touch
In your absence I write songs again every day
Haunted by ghosts of the dope ass albums you would've made
Until two years
pocket, we the best, I hope you clock It
Steady hatin', better stop it, what we do, we always rock it, give a fuck if they go mock it
Got a album, never
mind
Celebrating black talent, while bulidng
P.B.U as an HBCU
And clebrating queer art, and empowerment
By gathering my LGBT brothers and sisters
Man, this is the last.. record on the album
I got my man Craig Craig in the house
Kevin Dee from Midnight Express Crew's in the house
Charles'
tho' yo' ceo talk shit get slapped hard
The backyard is where we get our scrap on
The black car drive by then you get capped on
[Master P]
Whassup
tho' yo' ceo talk shit get slapped hard
The backyard is where we get our scrap on
The black car drive by then you get capped on
[Master P]
Whassup
'Zy rollin' with my cateye, deadeye
Ain't afraid to flame a rat up
But I hot out fathom
My album hit the shelves
We hustle for record sales
Hit my
and spilled all over ya feet
When the mirrors get to cracking and the closet get to rattling
I'm the black cat crossing the street
They say why you keep
other than acting is the hardest industry
To be the best and stand out with a clear USP
For me I try to do this by keeping my writing versatile
That's why
her bout the Grammys and told Her I have to grab it
Got the dog in me I use to battle and Rap shit
How you the Best But you ain’t Backing it
Serve you
hit the brakes
The bitches came out, so we the niggas they would chase
Envy was the norm, we the children in the corn
Black male, pickin' cotton,
Chauffeured by the latest and greatest strand or brand of pessimism
This album’s dedicated to a basement fulla addicts
It’s too hot up in the kitchen
Had
Sincerety clearly has died
My lyrics are merely mirrors to the tears in my eyes
I've done my best to share my life
My privacy's been sacrificed
But now
guns on me
Get down and dirty, all by my lonely
I leave your brains on your block all around your homies
Live by the code of honor, stay holdin' armor
was the best
My parents don't understand the art, Blonson why'd you have to fart on my name
Just put it to rest
I don't like kids, but I like Nic Cage
intergalactic traveler
What the fuck you smoking, that you think I'm joking huh
Best back off don't provoke me, imma hold my heart
Feel the pain, go insane, my
Intro: Instrumental (8 Bar’s)...
Verse 1: Alucard (Rapped 16 Bar’s):
I been in a strong winter sleep frozen by snow,
The icy flow so cold you’ll get
If i'm not black, do I wrap like a ghost
Oh my I run the show like a host
Oh my how Patek sell the best
Oh hi, won't you come shoot at my chest
Oh my
niggas so live, why the fuck would I care
When that lambo flow by, y'all suckas gon' stare
And all them haters gon' hate
Fuck them, 'cause all them hoes
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