Lyrics:
Keeping it G ain't nuttin, you ain't gotta like it cause the hood gone love it
You ain't gotta like it 'cause the hood gone love it
Watch a young
bring the bag out
Fucked your best friend, now you mad now
Yeah this 40, it'll make a band sound
Only 1 night, and then I'm headed out
And I get it nigga,
North, seeking middle-class prosperity
But by the summer of 1967
Much of that hope had turned to hopelessness (yo)
Yo, you that wrong, I crack a sky,
the simple truth, it always stays the same
We were all so young
I never could have dreamed of the hope and joy that a song can bring
I've really got to say
precise)
And oh yeah, I don't care to precise, I play by ear
I've always wanted to be in a band
Give me the music
Encore, you want more?
Gimme that
living play-by-play, day-by-day
No time for her honestly
Unless her face lookin' like a young Sade
'Cause I gotta get it a hundred ways
What you know
never give up, never give up, never give up
She's too young to stay home on a Saturday night,
She got a patient, gotta make sure he's all right,
They
the national guard, they coming to follow us
Young Ralo, Ralo
Super
Future Hendrix in this motherfucker, you know what I'm talking about
I get it popping
his pipe back
Matter of fact, tell his man get his life back
Spend ten bands, I'ma get it right back
Damn, who the fuck said I ain't get no money
Man,
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah
Ey
Do your thang
Get your bands
You go out
With your friends
Leave at six
Leave at 10
Home by five
Leave again
Leave
the Lambo
Bring it back home, the whole bag tho
And we breaking the bank bitch
We breaking the bank bitch! Whoa!
Bring it, bring it back
Yeah, bring the beat
Sykes
On these streets they watched me grow
On these streets they watched me grow
On these streets
(Band')
"The old days were the best",
really going on
Make it look like a lot of stealing going on
Boy them cops is killers in my home
Nigga shot dead in the middle of the street
I ain't no
always get tripped by a van (skrrt)
I pop in my mama, my bitch, and even my baby mama whip a sedan
I just paid some bands with five-hundred grand, I'm
And get these bands from me, bitch, I ain't shit free
You better hit these motherfuckin' streets and bring that bag to me
Shit, and every night I drive
And his dirty hands are empty when he brings them home to you.
So don't come runnin' back here when his soil turns to sand.
It's a sorry life to live
when it lifts me up, I'm gonna find my feet
out in the middle of a big dance floor.
When I hear that fiddle, wanna beg for more.
Wanna dance to a band
mane
Huh, who that is? Look
Fuck me good then give that bitch some bands and tell that bitch shut up
Run my hood, I call it home of land, come
head load the bullets then I get him dead
Get the quarter back like Eli Manning
I Murder shit worse I know Red he can't stand it
Don't play we pull up
Party till it's late night wake up in the sunshine
Race off in my new ride yeah
We gon stay young forever young forever
We ain't ever coming home
We
up you won't get it up
You won't show dice with a deuce at me
In the club are like 30 bands
Going hard till I prove something
Going lie on him he
Heart cold 556 boy this ar fold
Will we ever make it out the trenches only god knows
I know I'm living wrong sleep by a pistol and a bible
I know my
ay
It's a brand new day
Wow! That was amazing!' I shout as I clap
Your music is entertaining, and your songs bring so much joy
You always bring smiles
the pole to meet Christ
Saturday night, she twerkin it for a real nigga
These niggas hatin', I hate them niggas
Make me wanna bring back Tommy Hilfiger
I'm
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