Lyrics:
On the same corner back in that old neighborhood
As I gazed at the houses, unchanged by the years
In my throat came a lump and my eyes filled with tears
I
better than call
Four-quarter, we down by two, bruh, if you don't, just hand me the ball
Your bitch phone buzzin', said your name, but nigga, I'm jammin'
Where i'm from its stack or starve
Make ya move and play ya cards
Rip to all my soldiers
Free my niggas behind bars
Times is hard
So I ball
Pushin
nigga you hitting
(You know I be at the studio and shit)
Nigga you lying, who you trying to run that game on?
Who you think I am? I'm not one of these
street'll be on your stoop
Pop balls at your basket, bitch Alley oop
Old school vet like my jacket say true
Old school vette drop C6 coupe
Got the old school
got a crowd that's in a frenzy Bob
Let's go down to the announcers for the start of the game
And now.. please rise for the singing of our national
got a crowd that's in a frenzy Bob
Let's go down to the announcers for the start of the game
And now, please rise for the singing of our national
Performed by adam sandler, frank, and randi
Transcribed by a fan
"and now a cow at bat in the bottom of the 6th inning of a little league game
just fun and games
Like laws and rules are balls and chains
Treatin' little girls like hearts don't break
Treatin' old men like hands don't shake
I
just fun and games
Like laws and rules are balls and chains
Treatin' little girls like hearts don't break
Treatin' old men like hands don't shake
I
the zoo
And jumping out the gym like Jordan
The way she sucking on my balls no spalding
Never put it on pause when the money calling
Green button answer
On the same corner back in that old neighborhood
As I gazed at the houses, unchanged by the years
In my throat came a lump and my eyes filled with tears
I
of pretend
Like the cowboy game, where the boy is the sheriff
And Biff is the bandit king
It always seemed to end
With the outlaws down in the jail
By
the whole damn world
We gangsterous!
Bitches on niggas, let them think they got game
We sent them hoes, them hoes know Bob by they name
We put the P's in
to say
Last days, fast lane
Bombs from Pyongyang might touchdown
Then it's ball game
Ay, 'til then I'm rappin' by my last name
And the name remains
world but never been to Florida
They holdin' my shit, all winter
By the time the shit drop, I done already been there
The game's fucked, a thousand
Shouts to the gang
Shouts out to my old hoes
See i usely be with a gang of niggaz
But today ima do it by myself
I count it all by myself
I can hit
team only came to a game
To shoot the bleachers up
You tryin' to keep it secret but
I made you wanna battle rap
And go from bouncin' balls to countin'
on)
And the game fuckin' needed something dirty raw
Tell them this the law and we weeded, uh (yeah)
So if it's God you believe in (yeah)
Bob your
on)
And the game fuckin' needed something dirty raw
Tell them this the law and we weeded, uh (yeah)
So if it's God you believe in (yeah)
Bob your
from the oven with it, came from the dirt
I emerged from it all without a stain on my shirt
You can blame my old earth, for the shit she instilled in
from the oven with it, came from the dirt
I emerged from it all without a stain on my shirt
You can blame my old earth, for the shit she instilled in
Old Tom
Old Tom watched the river flow
Staring at the pool below
A ragged, scarecrow silhouette
The kind of man you'd not forget
Every inch
On the same corner back in that old neighborhood
As I gazed at the houses, unchanged by the years
In my throat came a lump and my eyes filled with tears
I
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