Lyrics:
the kitchen listen man I got my deep hooks in yeah
Verse 3
I’m way better than the other shit right now I’m boarding the mothership
Im orbiting while I hover
the bounding main tonight.
And by now, you must've found better than me
I'm sure Jupiter and Orpheus
Have charmed you off your feet.
By now, I'm sure you've
with the feds
Put three in ya head, from the street full of lead
Fuck knee-deep you'll be six feet when ya dead
Street sweeper when I creep creep,
cars, fast bitches, bottles and groupies hey
And we gon' do it just how they want it, yeah
Feet up out the sunroof while I'm doing donuts, yeah
And we
This room just keeps getting smaller
Keep me five foot three and no taller
But I'm feeling larger than life
While I'm forced to fall back in line
By
the other side)
B-b-bye, bye, bye
The streets said I'm either supposed to be in jail or dead
My uncle told me before he died to watch for these whores
clothes
It got me lost, gotta pay the cost, they say I'm off
Cause I'm a dead man walkin, deep dog talkin
Small time scracker, well be a thug trainer
Hangin
otherwise there's no topic
Look
She loves to take off like a rocket
We cannot stop it on the weekends, swear we do this shit often
It's
Dead Presi's in my
Wanted by the feds, they got to take me dead
But I got to get paid first
Before they roll me off
In the motherfucking hearse
'Cause I'm living the Thug
blaze heat for chedder.
We better eat together or meet at the crossroad
Cause the lord knows it's murdr, hold those.
When yo casket close and yo soul
a thriller
Never ever seen killer
Only know he's never see the daylight
They gon' feel it when I'm dead
So I'm gonna get myself ahead
Cut em off easy like
three strikes
Living in jail this is hell enemies die
Wonder when we all pass, is anybody listening
Got my hands on my semi shotty
Everybody's snitching
guess shes off, not guilty
Love jewellery, so filthy
Now were chilling at the beach
Corn on the chips, corn on her feet
Feet in the sand, Hands on her
So sick and tired of killing pussy ass rappers
My machete sharp like Steve Harvey
Rap toast with green coffee
Hot headed blow steam off me
I can hear
me?
Nope, that's the fourth time this week
Another fast brother shot dead in the street
The very next day while I'm off to class
My moms goes
with dutch colored seats
Lay in the crib on Tuesdays, duckin' the sweep
Nigga jump off, then get pumped off your feet
I'm like Rostein, low key
all I got hustling was hard to stop
But I used to get caught by cops so I had to chill and get off the block
Plus they talk a lot
I got to make it I
directed I ain't tripping off what they said
Trying to burn the bridge I ain't tripping nigga go ahead
Shorty always blowing up my line 'til my phone dead
your eyes and look
Everyday a young nigga is took
Off the face of the street by a police
It's like they gotta a nigga chained on a short leash
You can't
an accident
pick up the thirty-three per-cent
and retire somewhere out of the snow.
They'd figured that the bigger the policy
the better so sent
feet
They saw her dance last in Woolworth street
She loved to take her clothes off
She got the nick name porta bubble Joan
They found her dead
spread by the white sun
And there's nothing better than the black moon
Tie up your hat, my son, made from raccoon
We will be kings
Nothing can change that
Johnny Cash is dead
And Bob Dylan's busy
This story I'm about to tell
They'd tell it better than me
But Johnny Cash is dead
And Bob Dylan's busy
So
some extra power so I'll supercharge it
I haven't even shifted in second gear yet
Starting off slow just gonna get my feet wet
I've already gone not
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