Lyrics:
on the ground
She walk by like it ain't nothing happened
I don't know why I love so hard
Why the ones I choose always bad
Why they just want me because
Took her to the chanel store
Buy her things that she can't afford
Put my dick in her spinal chord
It's like we're acting porn
Stop calling her phone
through it, right
And, I'll never forget it I had like eight rhyme books--he'll tell you, he'll tell you man
I just, I went through them motherfuckers I
I guess it could make one for you. And so he calls out to his secretary and is like, Hey, can you make me a resume? And uh, can you get a business
classy, gold hand bone, mama said I'm too flashy
Niggas wanna jack me, tell 'em, "Run it," like a track meet
On my DMX shit, tell my enemies to get at me
a son redundant and drunk
Benaz tried stopping from shoving
Her mum around
So now he beats her like it makes him proud
The fat lips meant she had to quit
it's enormous
I pulled up in that don with that Hublot on my arm
Head to toe in Louis Vuitton, lookin' like I sold a ton (Louis)
Real trap nigga,
(Damn james)
(Dolla $ign, Dolla $ign)
Who tryna, who tryna go? (Go)
Who gon' drop it down like there's money on the floor? (Ho)
Who tryna, who
Caves for eyes,
With a cliff for a jaw
That would go up 'n down,
And whenever it did,
He'd puff out some dust,
And hack up a boulder
(HACK!)
Hack
still shining when you turn off the light
Shawty draw a crowd like a Mayweather fight
Roll it up light it up we bout to catch a flight
She a real bitch
, you can bet it
He'll be in a grave, he lay, he lay
In the grave he lay, he lay, he lay
He lay, he lay, he lay, he lay
He lay, he lay, he lay, he lay
In
when I landed
I'm waitin' in my hotel room
Seems like we're arguin' more and it's gettin' less romantic
Yeah, I think she'll be able to tell soon
But
exchange
Between Louis Farrakhan and
CBS'S Mike Wallace
You got to Nigeria, which is
If not the most corrupt nation
In Africa and it is
It could be the most
he love her on his mother
Man, he want to meet her mother by tomorrow
Pussy good enough, it got him sinnin' in the walls
And he diggin' in it like
I got my top down on my whip
Her hair blowing in the wind
I got my shades on cause I'm bent
She roll it up with no stem
I got my Louis bags duffled
swear to Dod dawg, man she's like a walkin' ATM
Except she ain't come in with drawls
I know you've been having G.O.O.D. Music withdrawls
I can not deal
shootin' up the club with his automatic
And I'm ridin' on that dick like a road trip
He gon' feel a circle, get inside it like a mosh pit
Any bitch can
and it got me a new piece
X on her chest, she be lookin' like Luffy
I pop a pill and I'm out for like two weeks
Sayin I switched up I hopped in a coupe
it's disabled
I whip that Rolls-Royce like I'm a sailor (whip that Rolls-Royce)
I count up so much, I bleed from paper
I keep the fan and glizzy by my
diamond rings,
She pulls my man around by her apron strings.
And if it wasn't for powder and her store-bought hair,
Oh, that man of mine wouldn't go
diamond rings,
She pulls my man around by her apron strings.
And if it wasn't for powder and her store-bought hair,
Oh, that man of mine wouldn't go
diamond rings,
She pulls my man around by her apron strings.
And if it wasn't for powder and her store-bought hair,
Oh, that man of mine wouldn't go
rings,
She pulls my man around by her apron strings.
And if it wasn't for powder and her store-bought hair,
Oh, that man of mine wouldn't go nowhere.
diamond rings,
She pulls my man around by her apron strings.
And if it wasn't for powder and her store-bought hair,
Oh, that man of mine wouldn't go
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