Lyrics:
Verse 1
-------
Some of the busiest rhymes ever made by man
Are goin' into this mic, written by this hand
Are comin' out of this mouth, made by this
yo' switches
Your friends, swervin' yo' bitches and then burnin' your bridges
You stuck and severed in thoughts of when it's all gonna end
When
brother on dat flo/
God snatched my soul /
How Im pose to know the right path can’t see with my eyes so swole/
But What really hurt the most /
When I
Still fightin paranoia
Anxiety at an all time high
Better days that I'm pushin for
Are what help me get by
Sheez still roll brown haze by
blood, I'ma show love, I'll call you my brother
When we on the road like a trucker
We bringin' that heat like it's summer
We'll serve 'em no butler
Send
ones
By the time I was 19, 20
Had a few albums
And I was producing more
Even hooked up with a band
After we jammed
On a music course
Ironi, the name fit
break or bend
I hit a lick with my brother, we tryna get up on some bands
We couldn't duck from the heater, so now we all tuckin' the fan
Next thing I
the bull in my life
Makes me not appreciate stuff I love to do I
End up getting lazy put the album aside
Stopped working out and my grades end up fried
coo, coooo!
Okay. Good day. Welcome to our single. I'm Bob McKenzie and
This is my brother Doug.
How's it going, eh?
Beauty, eh?
Yeah, I
Verse 1
-------
Some of the busiest rhymes ever made by man
Are goin' into this mic, written by this hand
Are comin' out of this mouth, made by this
Verse 1
-------
Some of the busiest rhymes ever made by man
Are goin' into this mic, written by this hand
Are comin' out of this mouth, made by this
your hoe, I'm knocking it down
Bands for a show, I'm skipping through towns
This drip cost, get that shit by the pound
She got a top, she's taking it off
Lebanon,
His people died by the Missile
A white boy I know,
His brother died sniffin' crystal
Different mothers
And different colors
That ain't
you from deep in the slums
Only way you make it out is by the barrel of a gun
All I wanna do is rap go to a different place and have some fun
But lately
My brother came home, he been lookin' for a fix
He did seven months strong for a crime he ain't commit
Crackas took his shit he ain't have no pot
thicker than water but they ain't bled
So how would they know? I'm trying to learn while I grow
I'm too busy chasing bands to be chasing a hoe
So please
drive em
Home theaters, can't Best Buy 'em
These niggas that I roll with
Don't let a single thing get by 'em
King pins and them drug lords
Chi-town,
[ea-ski]
Its kinda funny niggaz running up
Trying to show me much love
Cause a motherfucker just dropped an album
Now they wanna kiss ass
But hold up
round
You best get down
This that zoov music
This that fresh sound
I do it for the brothers
In the ends now
I don't buy draws man
I roll it from a fresh
calling them your brothers then you go and turn your back
We was out in Florida with snakes out in the grass
Rev I heard your new track and that shit still
but in my heart you've got me handcuffs
I deleted all our photos but there's still an album in my head
My brother still asks about you
And when you're
talking 'bout the Porsche out here
You in the nosebleeds, come down to where the cross-eyed is
How a nigga with a rojo rag end up in Soho
Bag, any bitch
ever heard in your life.
I'm talking about the kind of song where not only is the character in the song dead by the end of the song, but he's been
paper routes boy I put that on my momma
Nigga go an start shit then we go an end them dramas
All about them bands boy I put that on a come up
Got my
.jpg/300px-The_Gregg_Allman_Band_(27788276223).jpg "The Gregg Allman Band")
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