Lyrics:
the album drop, you want a sneak peak
You're on the wrong block, this a one-way street
Hundred grand petty cash in the hotel suite
Move your feet, lose your
weed
I feed off the hunger that a bum or abandoned child gets
Freaky, like Marv Albert, in outfits, by Chaka Givens
I lecture how I got God but don't
and niggaz with jobs on the side sell weed
I feed off the hunger that a bum or abandoned child gets
Freaky, like Marv Albert, in outfits, by Chaka Givens
I
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
knees in my room like she praying
I-95 in the .392 yeah we racing
Pull out my sword I kill him like I'm Jason
If he talk crazy we get to erasing
Choppa go
a blonde bitch
I got my own fragrance
Powered by 50, goddamn it, I think I made it
I tried to keep it basic
They wanna complicate shit
The feds on my phone
it all from my pops
He taught me to stand up for what I believe in
And what I believe in is of wolf and man
By taking the fallen lamb, harvesting from
Whomp
Whomp
Throw it back throw it back
Throw it back in the room got the bitty in the flat
In the flat YPR stepped in with the smacks
Freaky little
the crowds, of the club, and resumed
At a bar, in the room
As we moved,
We was
Shakin, shakin out
And shakin, shakin low
My hand real low
Round your skirt,
up to the top it a struggle gotta climb
Think im fake ima make you think again
Snap out that world your in start thinking logically
Band so fat got
We can get down, we can we can get down (x8)
It's like that man, it's like that (yes!) (x4)
Check it!
I'm not your average MC with the Joe Schmoe
Feasting on the Blood of the Insane by Six feet Under
Reekomposer vocals by Tony Reviere and Joe Benson
In the dark of the night I search for
niggas money's gettin' low
But could you come back though, set up shop, and get the fat glow?
Tired of y'all, mostly inspired by y'all
So what the deal
Triple see's, 305, be-O-E give us room
Whip the keys (twenty-five!), in the kitchen (cookin' food!)
Baby "We The Best", quit, hate the rest
Dade County,
Thought-I-Was-Gon'-Take-Her-Home-But-Left-Her-In-The-Room
Mr. Screws, Mr. Take-It-Off-Now-Bitch-Get-In-The-Pool
Mr. Already-Made-It, you can't come around
Mr. Quiet, shh, bitch, don't make a sound, yeah
money than the principal
And I never made the honor roll
But I'm in the lunch line with a honor roll
You pumping iron in the weight room
I'm
Okay, I think by now we've established
Everything is inherently worthless
And there's nothing in the Universe.
With any kind of objective purpose
Yeah
Alright
This the last song
I was always stressed by the last song
MORE ROOM
Benny
Yeah
More
MORE
Alright
Yeah
Thanks for all the love you gave
like networks
There ain't shit to prove
Look around the room
They gon' tell you how I move
Step up in the spot
Cleanest cars on the lot
Pressure on me
move left nigga check my C
Slouch ass nigga she don't need no bean bag
Loan a bitch a hundred ima need my bean back
Whip out the wood
Fat Joe watch her
the sticks up in the grass, like we Indians
When I be in her guts
I'm going in
I be killing it
Like, bitch, get over here
Grab her by her hair
Now she feeling
Ass black as a cup of Joe
Want fat stacks and a couple woahs
No fame without a couple foes
And bunch of white and a couple noses
Plastic dreams,
"pop" to the temple
"pop pop pop" was the sound I put the bitch down
And ran to the schoolyard bathroom
Looked in the trash can yo it had room
So I
"pop" to the temple
"pop pop pop" was the sound I put the bitch down
And ran to the schoolyard bathroom
Looked in the trash can yo it had room
So I
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