Lyrics:
at the mall rap
Album ain't sell
People know that I'm all that
Was once told my career would suffer
A curse by an Old Ghost
While he was smoking a dust in
I got by
Creflo pray Mike Vick payed bobby brown stray Whitney lost weight
Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write
That Mayweather money looking funny in
boy
On the outskirts, of what works
Live those who go for broke, and merk to get merked
Live by the sword and die by the semi
Not part of my ways, but
the Yellow Pages under smooth shit
'Cause Red ain't down for the bullshit
Niggas fucked up by letting me make an album
(How come, rude boy?)
To get
these fantastic amalgams
Painting casket bound careers to pierce gunning with classic albums
Security's the javelin, catch it; labor
Clocked in at seven
like Jackie Chan and lay low, like {?} Jack-son
Maxing and relaxing, haters, do they really want to test me man
I got an arsenal waiting, do they
Yeah! Ladies and gentlemen
I wanna thank you for dropping by
You've been listening to
The soundtrack to my life at thirty five
A slice of my mind,
From Sony Records all the
Way to Optik Records!
Yeah! From the US to overseas!
The lovely Melbeatz on the instrumentals!
Classic! You listen to me!
off
How, nigga? My last album was The Chronic (nigga)
They wanna know if he still got it
They say rap's changed, they wanna know how I feel about it
Yeah they want more said say less
Album need views
Got patience
Take a step back maybe take 10
So much faith imma make it
They ain't seen yet but
on my glasses
Young Quincy Jones dark skin Michael Jackson
Sincerely hard Headed is an automatic classic
Cause I'm full of passion
Think I ought to pass
the show lowkey
Get praise odeee
Younging's move OG
Next album way platinum I don't even gotta scratch it
Know the hits stay classic
This a Michael Mary
the face that they gone book
I'm bout to piss bitches when I drop this album
Have her talk more than Jimmy Fallon
But it really kinda' bugs me
How niggas
off
How, nigga? My last album was The Chronic (nigga)
They wanna know if he still got it
They say rap's changed, they wanna know how I feel about it
That I was not up to par, when I followed my heart
Granted, my heart was tainted by my mind, I kept on sayin'
Where's the hits? You ain't got none
You
classic shit
I like to ride around with a plastic fifth
I love to melt ya
I love them underground S-Q albums
Haters love to get you twisted
But I love
Cole World, DJ Khaled!
Yeah, back from the dead
Like Michael Jackson in red jackets, with naps in my head
Who's white or black, it's a rare package
but somehow I got by.
Creflo prayed, Mike Vick payed,
Bobby Brown strayed, Whitney lost weight.
Kimbo Slice on da pad when I write,
Dat may why
I got by
Creflo pray Mike Vick payed bobby brown stray Whitney lost weight
Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write
That Mayweather money looking funny in
Felon, fights behind me on the intersection
Sex and drugs my anthology on perfection
Dress superb admired by conspirists
Who wanna try me but ain't high
to boast
DJ HVNK
That last banger I just played for y’all is called Lazarus
And it’s on PANIC
A new album
By the 707
A young team on the come up
A group
to the sky
And watch the clouds go by
Look back to my last album, and see my progression
Well since then, I've learned many lessons
Since then, I've been
albums and EP's ain't no where touching on my vault
Niggas snitching for a lighter sentence just to walk
Niggas talking just to talk
425 Days 'til I'm 28
I’ve been stuck in traffic longer than I’ve been at home I collect the funds now
Michael Jackson how I keep these niggas on their toes
This is
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