Lyrics:
it's not about the paper
Friends no they fakers i see through ya make up
Run and tell it then i'll have to gun em all
6 feet the body put ya soul in
You Know What It Is, Man aha Aha Ha
Clipse yeah natasha yeah
Darkchild
M Ella
He Sick Over Your Hun you Doing Your Thing
We Make Em Trick Over
the balancers, anyway
I had a good day
Lil mama just hit for a thirty K
The plug just sent 'em right from the bay
You know that I caught 'em, I sold 'em
They
with your stance
Girl I know you work that 9-5 grind I can tell by the benz
And you really be the realest ya
I send you the track and you like damn boy
Top floor type shit
Chandeliers with marble floors boy
My baby momma just put me on child support
Fuck a warrant, I ain't going to court
Don't
ball, I ball, I ball, I ball
Smokin' loud, shit burn me up
Beat it up, Ike Turner her
I'm a killer, I'm a murderer
She tell me she never heard of us
(Hook 1x) Chanel matching from head to toe grab my keys and hit the door jump in my rover and smash the gas tell that boy by I’m
I’m out here
25 to life me cuz I'm killing all you boys
One by one, I'm D.C. sniping all you boys
But I keeps the chosen ones
I love the freaky boys
Not many
like they're up to no good
You take 'em to a label
Now who sits behind the table?
Some jewish mothafucka that don't know shit
Tryin' to tell y'all
baby making
Gotta chop that freak sitting next to me
Bitch look like some nialating
Hey sunday morning 'round eleven roll by interupting in
made
They don't care at all
About the love we give
See the world's gonna spin the same
I know myself too well by now
To let you tell me we ain't gone win
it on a nigga back
Tell em give me all the money
This ain't no movie you ain't got to act
Tell him that i'm fucking looney
That i will murk em put them
eyes work a full time job And girl, I guess I need you like a god damn job 'Cause I've learned that music doesn't pay
Too little too late
Tell 'em keep
get so moody
Met a cute asian girl, and I think her name is Suie
And he said he wanted smoke, so I spray 'em with my tooly
Lil boy you a fucking joke,
DJ Khaled
I'll pick you up in my ride
Make sure you waitin' outside when I pull up
I told my niggas I can't slide (No, no)
Just to be right by
hear
Stomp thru the street make 12 call dispatch
Strut like a model drip damn near mismatch
Tell em pull up wit the cash like I'm kidnapped
Coupe
want smoke wit any fuck boy, run up on me wrong & watch my
Brudda ease up off the clutch
Itchin to buss em up
Itchin to fuck em up
He goofy & Donald
all the solvin' (yeah)
Been thinkin' 'bout my friends and I can't tell them what is wrong
Send 'em all "Okay", then hit the button, I'm keepin' strong
[Intro]
Reporter: So, tell me... How do you feel about 'Jack the Ripper'?
[Evil Thriller laughter]
(Get him!)
[Verse 1]
Want me to get him? Well I
Yeah they go BADSHIT
Baby they go BADSHIT
Yeah They go BADSHIT
Crazy, I don't blame em
I been working them like magic
Boy I run the game
Like I was
think ten million what Shady paid him
I tell 'em, "No", they talk down on me and try to play it
Guess they forgot about all the other shit that I gave
Where would I be?
Without my sisters...
And I don't even
Call 'em tell 'em I miss 'em...
Where would I be?
Without my brothers?
And I don't even
Call
the years that I known her, trick never had a job
Unemployed that'll get a bitch depressed
But unlike them other, boys she watched me kill 'em with finesse
ladies trying to have the baby off of this kid
I'm not kidding, tell by the way ya'll wrap it up
Sometimes fact is fuck it, the notes until the glasses
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