Lyrics:
Look at Mr. Fly Guy
Passin' all the ladies by
Wonder if he sold another pack
To a homeless guy
If you see the Fly Guy
Don't look into his eyes
They
times
Baby we have been here a million times
Baby we have been here a million times
I'm sinking with red flag, red flag
I watched you
Gag lot of guys
I
what we into
Might turn the sky red
My guys dead
Niggas jumped me on Main Street
I ain't slip up
I ain't bitch made
Nigga wanna act tough
Zu gon mask up
A.M., he's on the kitchen table
Dick licked enabled by a chick thick as J-Lo
He grabs for the last rubber in the stash he has
Too bad cause the (?) half
Grand Puba is very special
Grand Puba is very special
Grand Puba is very special
Grand Puba is very specialNow many guys may come to you
With
bust inside the poker game and point a gun straight to the head of another guy, cause he owed him money, shoot I owe the same guy money this ain't even
New York City
Ever since I used my man I moved to Jersey
But realistically, God, could of called me early
'Cause I got a big bop I'm wanted by
money and drill
Don't act tough out here that shit might get you... shhh
Where I'm from bullies get bullied
Free Lor Gary
Long Live Boogie
Too many guys
a star
Yeah you gotta fuckin' rock rock rock rock
Rock what you got
Yeah flaunt flaunt flaunt flaunt
Flaunt what you got
I'm just tryna flaunt flaunt
It's time to start the party if ya'll don't mind
Me and "E" clean our Adidas with 409
He rocks the highs,I dog the bass
Ya want to hear us rock
remember listening to punk rock
Ya evanescence
Who'd have known the path it took
Light manifested
I remember pops being consumed by the past and present
guys
Got a demon outside its got red eyes
I just popped another pill now I got red eyes
Only thing that's on my mind is them dead guys
Only thing that's
cry
And that crack rock for their uncles
Glass broke
And the dull eyes
Let the soul ride in the trunk though
Locked in by your own pride
Saw it
tough guy rapper yeah that sighting is rare
Fuckin rappers and their kegel exercises I swear
Best believe the rifle will blare if they step In the lair
Yo my rhymes are great
Like the wall that lines inner Mongolia
I'm fighting hard in my life
But my opponent's tough
I was frightened by
What my mind
Two drummers
Me and another dude
And he's a cool guy
Too
He has a studio now
In Texas
And I guess
I played simpler stuff
Maybe I was less flashy
NBC rumors
World full of hate
Emergency vehicles
Much too late
Chalk line
Zip bag
Seal the fate
Just me and Jase Rock
Chilling out by the lake
The echo
the elders who messed up by themselves
Never judged another person by the size of their wealth
Just decided to know them until timing could tell
Years later
a punch line than a cunch line
You see, tryna find a shot that's a tough grind
You spot one by spot one on the front line
When the race gets tekky I've
[Chorus: x2]
It's the J you are A
Capital S another S I see
Five MC's in the flesh
Bound to catch wreck
Hit the deck
'Cause we'll pop
YSL, we the guys
We murder him and his tribe
I show you around like I Spy
This city is mine 'til I die, ah
Patek the rock, ah
Soon up, we shoot
ZUBIN MEHTA (Zubin Mehta); still others say (others say he), bullshit, honey (bullshit, man) he's just another greasy guy who happened to be born next
out to the whole streets
This goes out to all that knows me
All y'all pussy niggas, holies
Y'all play tough guys but call the police
Look I don't care,
like demons
Sounds like a job for the doom guy
This nigga actin tough
Tall red guy with the green eyes
All red no red dye
No cry like
Don't confuse me
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