Lyrics:
a homicide.
Whoever told you that the summers ain't hot, is a damn lie
I been here, an I ain't get no love till 9,5
Niggas act real big, till they ready
other shit
I-I believe in a sky, a higher power
Shots fired by your favorite rapper
Partner boom boom boom God got my body
God time to shine, I'm
that cannot bleed
Below our dying sun
Nothing was set in stone
Peaceful and on their own
High hills where children play
Those summer lawns and sunny
below the bridge
A little short on food that's all
Now I gotta get marie some kind of coat
We're headed down into fall
I used to play the mouth harp
like I'm Toad
Hop in the forth, that four-forty-four close
It's on, soon as you see 'em, let go
Reloaded it and dump it some more
So we posted up by
distracted by money drugs and four
Fives, I count lives all on these songs
Look at the weak and cry, pray one day you'll be strong
Fighting for your rights,
I see you shining like a trophy
Tell me what it's gonna take to have you
Damn
I heard you're kind of a control freak
Trust me, it ain't nothing I
check this, I know the bitch he rest with
I even blessed it, forty-dash-ten, inspect it
(Already checked it, dunn, near his ankle you could see his gun)
by the seawall
Fang brought the TNT
Make the bomb more large
Too big can't control
Hope it don't explode
Stay below when we touch the road
He was found
the street, just kids in the street
Remember when we
We used to laugh, we used to cry
Live and die by the forty five
Take me back, I'll go there
Who
pleased to meet you
I know today's occasion so I can sing
Happy birthday, you're fourty five
(it's not my birthday)
It don't feel like a real celebration
doesn't matter much
(Aide #1:)
She's our lady of the new world with a golden touch
(Aide #2:)
She filled a bull-ring, forty-five thousand seater
(Che:)
Seven forty-six, wake up, hand on my dick
Lakers lost by thirty last night, I'm talking shit
Roll up a Backwood, killer in my spliff
Reading GQ
Seven forty-six, wake up, hand on my dick
Lakers lost by thirty last night, I'm talking shit
Roll up a Backwood, killer in my spliff
Reading GQ
a thousand cubes in a nineteen-forty-eight Peterbilt screamed to life. We woke up the chickens.
Well, we roared up offa that shoulder sprayin' pine cones,
I'm riding on the 5.40
Taking people back home in the morning
Find a safe spot and curl up against the window
Thoughts forming in my head, i'm
to Xbox
Basically what I'm sayin' is nigga you
Gotta change wit' the game
I ain't playin'
Ayo! Ayo! 40 belows, little deuce deuce in it
I been a hustler
Hit
leaving me no choice, but to raise these three kids all by myself
I will not wait for you
A gift
To come home
I threw the candles out
Left your food
a thousand-five cannons
Nigga gettin' it on
Peep out the window, I was solo flashin'in the streets
Caught by cops
I'm tell them bring some extra tape and plenty
em'
Back to Benning Road
Strippa bitches in my kitchen with
The semi's on the floor
All I know I want him dead by tonight
With his head in his lap
the whips and switch the cribs up
Get my dick sucked by mermaids
Black shades, Hermès
The whole last winter I went through a fur phase
Yeah, that summer
PeakTwelve on the beat by the way
Wake up yeah
5 o’clock somewhere pour the drink up yeah
This the kind of life I wanna live up yeah
Wake up, yeah
5
as a Christmas tree ornament
Come and give me a test whoever claims to be the best
He's with the 40-below footprint on his chest
Fucked up, got stuck, go press
at a time[02:30.58]Jesus gang gang gets me by[02:34.06]Have faith, yuh[02:35.36]Have faith, yuh[02:36.68]Your doing great[02:39.20]Have faith, yuh[02:40.39]Have faith,
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