Lyrics:
six in cell by myself
I didn't pick up the phone about no help
When I came home I got back with it
I ain't trippin up over my old self
On my mama
Imma king, call me Chris Webber
I ain't even know the bitch, my album cover on her header
I drive my car down the road, ya boy a bike peddler
Even tho my
that's show
But if you move about it, it's a go, well
Dynamic electromagnetic style utensils
Golden-tempered circles enjoyed only by the members
Heat
getting cold?
Sitting with your parka all on your own
Sulking on gig night
Write another album made out of spite
I'm bored by the sight
I'll bore you now
your shirt, become one with the turf
As I watch you fall down, and tell you just what you worth
You no good, dirty rotten scoundrel
I pull these hoes,
the Season, sour cream with lots of Chives
Make your moves, got nice Grooves, better chill out now Stay cool
Man nobody could tell me Anything anymore
I'm
a VIP
I wear a plain t-shirt they see my jeans
Truly religious, so I wear true religus
And they're authentic you can
See by the seems
In by twelve so we
meal
I'm ready, ready to wrestle
Get back to my groove and ready
To give you the red light special
I start with your toes
And I move a little higher
I
the ground, watch me count it up
Cop me a pound, burn it down with us (uh)
Let's hit the town, is you down or nah?
Look at me now, I done found me some
at me
Clips in I'm concealed
No I agree with
But he ain't be with you
I guess we all can agree he's the real issue
He wouldn't have a album
He wouldn't
seat like Rosa Parks
I been cooking in the dark to help y'all see how i can spark
Little motherfucker with his shirt tucked in talk to me like I didn't
gets past twelve and she's teasing me
Because I just came out and my dungarees
Dropped by with a letter going to get a babysitter
Stopped at the shop
And your last two albums was fucking whack
Really was feeling the song about dolo
But you was by yourself you can't make it solo
And what's up with your
[Intro: Girl and guy talking]
Ayyo, whassup girl?
What's with this dress shirt and jogger pants?
Whatever
How you gonna be wearing them open toed
of the power that he holds, so he goes
Along with the show
44's in every rhyme
Like his album was a gun shop
Clips in every line
Every word is a gunshot
Claiming
favorite the epileptic fit.
Polo-neck, polo-neck, she don't wear a shirt
I suppose it's because it disquises the dirt.
Hey, where are you going with that hat
uh, uh, yeah, yeah
I don't even wanna move at the same pace
Thru the motions my groove is a straight race
Feel like schoolboy Q with the blank face
Why
with the team.
I was signed to Ruff Ryders movin pounds of the green.
I did a groove album, but I aint get a release,
that's when I politiced with
was gettin the change.
A couple years later got down with the team.
I was signed to Ruff Ryders movin pounds of the green.
I did a groove album, but I
the volcans
And by the BBC
I am the ground underneath your feet
I am the air flying over these niggas
Wanna fuck with me
Cause I am definition of duality
Me
write
If I start it tonight
I'll have an album by light
I'm counting on slowing down
Won't give up the fight
They say I spit it too white
When I do what I
to explode,
'Cause you're taking mad long with my ID
I'm in here weekly
You know my face by now,
Stop wasting my time, you know the deal, get me out of this
the morning just to ride with ya', yeah
This feel like a rebirth, another day on this green Earth
I couldn't ask for much more man, shit could be worse
album’s coming out
Just the perks of being frontman
Of the second biggest band in your small town
As you thank people for coming
Someone grabs you by
Discuss these by and grooves with t shirt album 311 Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In