Lyrics:
feet.
The scary one is back with clothes so white and clean;
And her face that's coated with a quarter inch of cream-cold cream
She's the one who
Damn this shit is good
Damn this shit is great (uh)
You could check the pot I put a lot up on my plate but
I don't give a fuck (uh, uh)
I don't ever
I've come to tell ya people
I've traveled this great land
I've crossed two mountain ranges
cnd combed the desert sands
From Maine to California
By
Justinian's Byzantinian Christian beliefs
There's a risen rhythm you can feel it all in the streets
Like a marathon or a parade
Poets might wanna pull they
the back, blowin pack by the acre
CEO, hoe, all about bidness
Kill the kitty, I ain't leavin no witness
Coldest in the room, freezer in the kitchen
Pussy
Independent now, won't double back
I'm reppin' BMG, yeah, I'm the Big Money Getter
Fuck the pop shit, remember Logic as a spitter
Just a kid having fun when
in one verse, rhythms will switch patterns
Chicks get stabbed in the back, 'til they get spasms
Known to spit a magnum, or split an atom
Who woulda
my head keep us fed she gon' help us get this bread
God is great God is good now she got me gripping wood
Woke me up out of bed had my back and never
the microphone, I’m being constantly patted on the back and presented with flowers. There’s great shouting and excitement and really one can only convey a very
Makin' love to the money I swear the sex great
I kick dem hoes out but let the money stay
Makin' love to the money like a sextape
I'm talkin' Kim
I’m a visionary and I see my vision clearly
So much ambition
These white people see me and they fear me
Young black man with a plan
I know they wanna
Uh, uh
We use to wear rugged boots, now it's all tailored suits
Audemars Piguets for my criminal recruits
Champagne flutes, bumpin' rhythm
COMMENTATOR 1:
Were off.
England looking to get forward. Strong start by the boys in white, keeping the ball well. Long ball forward by Hope, but
for y'all
And my voice is messed up too, this is the last track of Young Sinatra
Yeah, yeah
Back in the day I wasn't shit, homie
Penny pinching I
way
Your way
The highway
Separation
Reparation
More than color
More than system
Less than racial
Less than method
It's been endless
Change the rhythm
rest is on my born day
Bust it, sometimes I sit back and just reflect
Watch the world go by and my thought connect
I think about the time past
Feel the rhythm (6x)
One, two, three
feel the rhythm of my heart
rip it out, sully my blood
stay by my side and just pray
God wont forgive our
Whatever the heart desires
White or red, what shall we dine with?
You're more than a ten
How can anyone deny that?
Of course you'd look great, don't matter
can't break a dollar
Got nobody else to blame, so you blame Donald
"They fuck the world with a Make America Great condom"
My voice been back
I'm not
on
The homie Great John on the beat, by the way
Don't Come Outside, Volume 3 out now
(Great John on the beat, by the way)
I'ma fan Heavenly Father but
back on track
Get the skates off the rack
Cause the best roller king is
The new ladies mack
The '91 Sheep will supply the two
The Plug One will be fine
Bricks by the box
Make thousands, hundreds at a time
Don’t say noth’n
I won’t let it ride
Used to push Pablo..
Now it’s Betty White
Always get
redemption,
Cult aggression with no suppression
Everyone pushed too hard,
The shit is FUBAR
All the psychos pushed right back,
Who says what's too far,
Go get
the strangest figure he had ever found.
Small as a child, but with white long hair down its back,
It wore a shining white tunic with a lustrous belt
And it
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