Lyrics:
do better
Your imagine material looks, hotter behind looks
Raise the fear, no one, but self, who's shook?
Bring the plague like the revelations in
Notre Dame
Golden Arms is bronze, buddah palm hit Qu'ran
It blows extreme, mean stream be the theme
Supreme team, America's Cream Team, redeemed
Vidal
years of ceaseless pain
And just like a young Tom Sawyer, I could use a lawyer
To sue the man named Sam who dealt me this hand goes by the name of Mr.
mother gave birth but she really never had me
Left to the hood to play daddy
Raised by niggas named Butch, Scoot or Bae-Bae
With weight so they weigh
Yeah, big Snoop Dogg
(Snoop Dogg)
Devin The Dude
A lil' sumn for the
(Something for the bitchez)
For the who?
(For the bitches)
For
wrong
If you learn to croon this happy tune
They call it Sam's song
"And now another treatment of this
Classic American Theme
Brought to you by
Muhammad will forever speak
Greet brothers with handshakes in ghetto landscapes
Where a man is determined by how much a man make
Cop Cognacs and spit old
the girls like whoa (Whoa)
I love the way you drive fast when you're off-road (Road)
And do it so professional
We like them cowboys who can put on a show
didn't know we were going to live like this. You were not the person I married.
It's true. I wasn't. This was coming from the man who said no job was
person who hires me
Saying yes to every question is always the key
Become a corporate shell ran by the machine
Not see any of my visions on the screen
Then
been trying
To see some sun shine
Through on the things we do
And who's to say
Today we may see a way through
The troubles and strife
And even though
to sellin raps, name your theme
My rise to the top, floatin on this cream
Who the hell want to stop me, I hated those who doubt me
A million ReFugees with
Being gentrified
By the guys who's nine to five
Provides enough for sustainable life
If you feel like you're being threatened
Because our skin isn't your
trying to heal
I had been married at seventeen
By the man of my dreams
Who very soon became my living nightmare
He said he loved me
But he was controlling
facts
But you know we don't want fags
I don't even know what I'm gonna say next
All I know is I'm getting distracted by a sext
I need to clear my mind,
to selling raps, name your theme
My rise to the top floating on this cream
Who the hell wanna stop me, I hated those who doubt me
A million ReFugees with
hopes and dreams, we got, ways and means
The supreme dream team, always up with the schemes
From hubcaps to sellin' raps, name your theme
My rise
the club and does our thing
My goonies by the bar
We ghetto superstars
They know just who we are
We pistol poppers chopper choppers
Blame it
on, and the most hated
Hated by niggas with no hustle
Starin' at me in the club like I won't bust you
In the face with the spades, life is a card
something that you'd tell your former self?
There were those that wished they'd spun upon a jukebox
There were pirates who had never seen the sea
But
So watch out hard
Who holds the keys to the car
It doesn't matter who or where you are
Believe me you'll get caught
By these haters
These fakers
Top: 11
Theme: Rod Stewart Songs
Original: Cat Stevens
--
I would have given you all of my heart
But who's someone who's torn it apart
And he's
nuts, then I (yeah)
Check my ball hair (what?), make sure it's all there (yeah)
Then call the pallbearer (yeah)
It's Music to Be Murdered By again, why
sing, for I cannot be silent!
His love is the theme of my song
I know I shall see in His beauty
The King in whose law I delight
Who lovingly guards
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