Lyrics:
homies kinda deep
Somking on a thai stick feeling kinda hight wit
Ya passenger seat occupied by a fly bitch
Rolling in ya lo-lo
Cut list all ya MCs
Don't think with your mind when you're pricing
Cause I married the game so we feel
That the cake need a little more icing
Sell out by the cases
Bitch
ever written are forgotten or lost
We just reiterate a thought that was taught to us
But never pause to create another place for us
And changes
Pirus.
L.A., Denver Lanes; there's more in Pasadena.
Avenues, Blood Stone, Inglewood family.
The Pueblos, Blood Stone Villians, Black P. Stone,
Circle
more to us, more to love, more to you and me
Far beyond our bodies, fantasies and nudity
Instead of bare skins I'd rather have you bare your soul
Instead
been a minute
Itching to see you
This blade a grass kinda feel like a sword
I know I should make peace with the past
But I need more, I'm talking time
I
the summertime, me, in the summertime, you
In the summertime, us when we were just little kids
Yeah, you know!
We were just running around freely in this world with
he'd tell would meet the icy stares
Of your mother while your brother cranked his stereo upstairs
But you'd smile knowing all the while there's no point
with that
I'm indifferent to my rights
to my wealth and
to your ugly faint smile
All I need is my car
is my stereo and
a little time of mine
away from
feel it y'all?
Rather see we in a three-by-three structure with many bars
Leave us where we are so they can play among the stars
They taking off
Hey Todd, you on? (Am I on?)
The foundation was laid several years ago
I built a whole empire in your stereo
Got a four leaf clover representin
town over maybe
I'll drive down Ponce de Leon
Where the trees grow tall by the side of the road
Where the churches are plenty
With their parking lots
crack addicts
It's that tragic move back I bat above average
A rap savage don't play by ya rules in mathematics
I grab havoc and spray you fools with bad
ashes to ashes
and dust to dust, if you fuck with us
It's a must we bust, and if you stand wit us
Nine times out of ten son you might get bucked
Oh yes, I'm that master rap
I'm the cold cap (echo)
I'm what you know, ask
Rapping
Beyotch, beyotch
2 times baby, one time more
Give it one more for
bawling, bursting at the seams
Naive, raised by confidantes and a dream
Dressed all in white with a crown of roses
Thorns hold your eyes, too ingrained
brought up by a groomer
Substrate set, no respect, cut through her
Demolition blew now you see a straight shooter
Little piggy wanna see the wolves
Tryna
When I was just a little baby boy
My momma used to tell me these crazy things
She used to tell me my daddy was an evil man
She used to tell me he
When I was just a little baby boy
My momma used to tell me these crazy things
She used to tell me my daddy was an evil man
She used to tell me he
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
You got me playing simp songs on the stereo
Still thinking 'bout last night, you're troubled, aren't we all?
The crazy pull that gravitates my full
Taken by lack of plans
Riding your empathy
But rides only go so far
She said to me with a smile
I recognize your face
But little does doll-face
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