Lyrics:
for my village, yeah
I do it for my pe (Aye, yes, sir)
And the blood drippin' by the gallons (Grr)
Dolo in the whip, I solo any clique
It's not
fact on the map
Lil' flicking ass niggaz, fix your act or get slapped
We keep hollows up in them holsters, get a package of blap
You could tell by
like Hendrix playing on a hey joe solo
Luck of the Irish Yoko Ono
Take this album that’s pro Bono
I weren’t the only one? You too? You too? Mad
We’re
the genie
Niggas is ass out like fat bitches in bikinis
Read between the lines, see what I see?
I see the diary of a sick bastard
Junior MAFIA blaster
Rugers
Yeah yeah what yeah
Reminding me of Sef what?
Fat fat thick booty what?
You say jack that big booty yo
He say oh oh
I heard the boy he said
Blowing up like a fat man guess I'll go on tour bitch
Satan in my ear telling me to sell my soul
Getting tired of his tongue man this shit is getting old
Houses of the holy
Was an album by led zeppelin
I bought it on eight track
Not on cd
Fades out in the middle
The way an eight track's s'posed
Half these bitches
Couldn’t admit
That they’re a product of a past
With a future not envisioned
Realized in my villain
If I take too much
Hate erupts
and knoccs
So baby you comin you down or not
Hey hey body's enticin
By the way you rottle your trunk
Speeding your in need of a license
Before i pull you over
to break n my spot
Then yo soul is missing
Bishop the Don When it come to pimping
Pockets is fat so I'm slightly limping
When i walk in the room
Better pay
They diamonds are cloudy I'm changing the weather on god
Feel like Fat Joe you know terror the squad
Open the third and see the the mirage
Whole lot
holding my son
Cuz I rather go rap stuffing kush in a backwood
Stay on the Act like Fat Joe ya lean back
My whole squad full of terror we flip pterodactyls
And now I started streaming
I been Screaming affirmations
With the meaning
I ain't Fat Joe, got em leaning
I picked up the Mac
And started beaming
I been
Wit full of game of that
Acronym
If i push the buttons
Make fat joe
Wanna lean bacc again
My label is the label
Full of trillas
That we factor in
Gotta
at the casino, red or black
Break the rules we'll take you to the room in the back
Swag em', bag em', and tag em'
So much gas that I pack a
Hazmat when I travel
The Intergalactic Laxative
Words & Music by: Donovan Leitch - 1973
Performed by: Donovan
Album: Cosmic Wheels - 1973
I was impressed like everyone,
wit' it grab your friends, follow Joe and me
'cause it's on, it's on
Went in and got the Cris' and a pound of weed
It's on, it's on
Now mami, let's
to copy but they just can't sketch it
Some try to follow but they just can't catch it
With the boom boom tap, yeah alla dat
Huh, I'm livin fat, me fall
and the roaches
Now a nigga's blunts sitting as
Fat as my roaches
Bout to go ham, you niggas just kosher
I'm a shark in the water
See the fin and it's over
Bitch
did did that
This is Ghostface Bakery, ya'll ain't cake to me
Pushin' cocaine, Whitehorse in the city
Over Pun and Pac, I cried over Biggie
Spazzed
Revisionist Past by Dying Fetus
Reekomposer vocals by Tony Reviere and Joe Benson
The long lasting record
The customary truths
Historic correlation
Foxxx, Bunchy The Fat Bastard, Naughty By Nature and all the real thugs out there
(Who fi broke-broke an who fi rich-rich)
Keep it comin'!
(Outlaw
inside this room right now
Would be in misery
No one would sing a song or get along
'cause everyone'd be singing for the king
Am I wrong?
I say yo, what's
you 5 seconds
[Roscoe]
The wait is finally done with, the time is now
YA, like who want it, we in it to run it
The album's done nigga, Volume 1 nigga
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