Lyrics:
track out no interest
In how the fuck you are cause uh business
Act but don't care I
Don't want to stand by
Envy your damn life
Should be me it's fine
ones
By the time I was 19, 20
Had a few albums
And I was producing more
Even hooked up with a band
After we jammed
On a music course
Ironi, the name fit
His eyes were hazel --he worked for public radio and drove a Chevy truck.
His sister Rachel lived with a man who walked in circles getting nowhere
Fast.
All negatives around me yeah they gotta go
Relationships I lost while I been in album mode
All for a purpose dawg and the greater good
Been
motherfucker
I've held shit you would be crushed by
I've held shit you couldn't even fathom holding
So all the fucking pricks who are gonna say
CB, your album's
and she's down with The Roots crew, and she go by
The name of Miss Jill Scott
I want y'all to put y'all hands together
Uh, uh, say what? Give it up
love you)
(I love you)
I woke up out that coma 2001
'Bout the same time Dre dropped 2001
Three years later the album is done
Aftermath presents,
signs
Still I climb, rockstar, Third Eye Blind (I began to lose control)
I was bored by these albums, so it gotta be time
No reward for the latter, so
The lion queen is Hollywood
I'll rule the world with charm and cool
You know I am astrology freak, baby
And that's all that this album's gonna be
But
the pool with ya mama
Attack her by the legs then I pull her to the bottom
Twist nothin' up like a condom
Slap it if you fuckers got a problem
When I see
in the pool with ya mama
Attack her by the legs then I pull her to the bottom (yeah)
Twist nothin' up like a condom
Slap it if you fuckers got
sisters?
This one's for the brothers
The brothers, the brothers
Said I be rappin' for da ladies
What's up ladies?
But this one's for da brothers
We were flipping through a photo album
at a low branch on the family tree
I said, "you look just like him"
this one looks like me
doesn't she?
Oh
DJ Khaled
DJ Terror Squad
And he goes by the name of
You got the right one, it's Weezy fuckin' baby
And if your woman lookin', I'll let
again like Groot
No-one really knows how to make it, I do
I'll have an album done by like noon
And ride the Milano with my Raccoon
I'ma keep makin' songs
and my man Rick got millions of gold albums
(That's a lie) I'm gettin' cold money every day
(You're a liar)
You'll need a wheel barrow for all that shit in
I think you need help
How many time on one album can you say you're def?
"I'm bad." Yo punk, save your breath
That's weak shit from a weak mind
rapper about to blow
But his album came, and it was not good
I think it went lead or double copper-wood
So the silly little fans, they were misled
By
letters
Written by my true love's hand
[Go and bring them to me sister
Read them o'er for me tonight
I have often tried but I could not
For the tears that
Man, this is the last.. record on the album
I got my man Craig Craig in the house
Kevin Dee from Midnight Express Crew's in the house
Charles'
sister be the first one to get smoked
Then I grab your grandma by her weave hair
And whip her old ass with that wooden leg she wear
I'm from the bloody
On the real I keep it real under the moon and the sun
It's in my DNA and blood live by the money and gun
Study Art Of War so every single battle is
of a paper cup
Something flew by, looked like a lightning bug
But I say firefly
My mama said if I could reach then I could touch the sky
And now I feel so
get me wrong, got four albums, stay consistent
You got a bodyguard, I let my nigga tote the biscuit
Twist ya cap back, you got blood off on ya fur hat
.jpg/300px-Sister_Hazel_(2174716298).jpg "Sister Hazel")
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