Lyrics:
You can tell I'm real, by lookin' in the ball of my eye.
I will get some cream from it, one day, your baby, and my baby.
Can my some dough on Teem
Just 'cause a nigga calm an' he got style
Don't think I won't flip and
Don't pull your file
But I got enough bullshit to deal with
I'm rollin'
go, I ain't no big nigga though
But it take no time to split a bitch nigga Cantaloupe
Bust 'em up one by one, niggas know how it's done
If it's not
Whether it be casualties from your side of the line or mine
I'm in the line of duty amputations by the tooley
Dirty South here to ruley, consequences moody
clique's lookin lavish in upscale casino style
Flexin muscles like a Gotti trial
Yellow case get shook by the court with the judge
You should know a pimp,
Start takin' notes, statin all quotes
Niggaz couldn't see me through an optometrist scope
Open, by the rhythm MC's that's hardest
New Jerusalem,
card shit I turn styles like the door knob
Bring ya more but it don't matter because me and squad Bogard
For so long we hear the dumb shit that some do
Adams, but Mr. Adams
I cannot write with any style or proper etiquette
I don't know a participle from a predicate
I am just a simple cobbler from
Aggressive, my style versitile.
You're best to hear the Mojo growl.
Coming up behind with a bat, ""crack"" from a Mr. Payne attack.
Dazed
up, 'cause I got some ends
but game recognize game ain't no need to pretend
used to kick it at the shack on Delta the shelter
niggaz walkin by the spot
blinded
Looking for a style like Bone but can't see me
Just like mike everybody wanna be me
Study every movie nigga makin on tv
Easy does it do it easy what
Playing world cup in the street
Making magic with my feet
I'm spotted by a scout
"Bring your boots, you'll turn out"
Put on the shirt for my first
Twelve was the age that set me off with the "graff" style.
While zapp bumping, gang banging was hype with the juvinile.
Graff grabbed my mind which
fever on a Saturday night.
[Chorus by Admoney]
Come on!
It's a Saturday night
Come On!
It's a Saturday Night
Come on!
It's a Saturday night
So bring your
I wanna make violent love
To you by the moon above
I wanna make violent love to you
I wanna kiss every night
To squeeze and hold you tight
I
time
Cause many rhyme
But a lemon ain't a lime
And I don't falsify to get by
You must be more than herbally high
To verbally comply
To my vocal range
I
to me
I would fly you to the stars
I would buy expensive cars
Everything will be alright tonight
If you will stay by my side
'Cause you're
of givin ends
now first things first, who's the bait for the night
we still trump tight and can't be faded by the hype
might be in the clouds from the herb,
milk?)
6, 5, 4
(yo chill what's up what's up?)
3, 2, 1
Now what am I mad about?
(i don't know man)
In my particular style, I rhyme a while
Then I
sittin there thinkin that you can hit me with ya whip appeal
I ain't baby face bitch I got dick appeal
She laid down, grabbed me by my waste
Got freaky
and open up your eyes or be out cold forever
Young niggaz stay strapped
Never bribe to the crime, they can't trace the styles, too hard of a design
Young
so let me come in real slow.
Like 1, 2, I bet you thought you knew about the style we present,
So intense cutting through with precision never
Imagine my hands are clean
I am revitalized by things unseen
I begin a dialogue with the road
Toothless, hopeful, about to explode
How could I
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
Now it's about to be talked about
You're gettin' slapped by my grammar
Vocals like a hammer with roots from Alabama
I'm under
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