Lyrics:
plottin' since I was like, seven years old, bitch
I want a mansion, gold fence
Feel like that's been the goal since
I've been plottin' since I was like,
by and I was still searching for my spirit
I made this album hoping that I could feel it
I still be having flashbacks of me 12 years old in that
Leach
Richer than a Twinkie, I got so much cash
That to me Paris Hilton is poor white trash
I take forty-seven weeks of vacation a year
If people piss me
flew by
Some of the words took a place within like my eyes started facing in
And then I picked up the pen and while expressing my heart
I opened up my
Listen let's settle this, be clear I could fall back seven years
And still ain't no one ahead of me
Consider it a blessin' if you get to stand next to me
albums in for 10 years I been 5 hot steamin'
The limelight's mine, I'm gleamin', beamin'
That's why I say I'm king bitch, I got my reasons
Wrist so
(check, check)
It's been a whole damn year
So how do I feel now?
Did I turn it around or did I burn it to ground?
Am I gonna spend another tryna come
Daddy Rae
Represent (represent)
Magic Mike
Yo, I represent, I represent
I represent 10 albums at twenty seven years old
Millions of copies sold
grassroots resistance to private prisons
Won't lie
Kinda been waiting
Happy Tara taught me the art of documentation
Turned it to an album
It's been 2 years
alright.
Cause I'll be spittin' this game to you all damn night.
When I was 3 years old,
Straight pimp game I was told.
My daddy sent me to pimp
was 3 years old,
Straight pimp game I was told.
My daddy sent me to pimp school.
In this man's world, you can't be no fool.
If a pimp is what you
See you pray for mud
When you climbing out the pits only up from this
You late as hell I see you straddling the fence
Should've been my bitch 24/7
Peter Pan
Called her in five years, got a pool the size of Nevada's Hoover Dam
Ignorin' the fact that your album performed worse than my feature can
Give
Say she a fan, say she want cuff me but she cannot fuck up my plans
Bitch I'm the man, I do what I say and I say what I do no pretend
Deep in
of the streets
The makings of a real MC, yeah, bitch
So just abide by what you ride by
'Cause we abide, by what we ride by
Just abide by what you ride by
'Cause
of the Horsemen
Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman
And we abide by, the code of the streets
The makings of a real MC (C...C...C...C) yeah bitch
of thought by having my child, you guaranteed to get riches
Shit I told you last album, to go on 'head and foul on me
Hate me so bad, I know it hurt ya
rich, black, trap nigga
With a fuckin' 7 figures
A huncho on my wrist
Pull up in the whip with the shit and blow your bitch a kiss
All of this ice
[Lil' Boosie]
Ugh! We dropped again on you bitch ass, niggaz! (Laughing)
Every album like a bird!
If you buy Trill shit
Then you buy that real shit!
But something told me, write this down and just speak from the heart
It's been fourteen years since I found you all alone in the dark
But losing you
and her address
But I know that that's your bitch
Don't tell me that's your whip
The same whip in which I lashed your chick
You rets when I do skets
I don't
1995 and Compton's still up in this motherfucker
Yeah, this album's dedicated to all you real niggaz
But most of all it's dedicated to you bitch ass
must be crazy, nigga
Onе song for my deluxe is all I need to do
These puppies barkin'
They done bit off more than they can chew
My album just dropped
I'm
and you go end up hurt
Thirty go by a new bitch gone twerk
Thirty go by a new blick gone burst
Thirty go by a new wrist gone work
Thirty go by a new click
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