Lyrics:
need a license for your cat
Praline: I bleedin' well do and I've got
One! Can't be caught out there!
Clerk: There is no such thing
As a bloody Cat
and MC's roll
But the albums they make never go gold
When I was young, I knew I'd be one of the best
Every time I made a song it came out so fresh
I was
Boom, bash, wake up, I set it off right.
Look around, and turn your wet dream to fright night.
You can call me R and B, homies, which stands for
Yo
You know I'm just chilling out here
3 am in Brooklyn
I'm in the studio late night working
A lot of people telling me when the album dropping?
I'm
the bill collector's the only nigga that knows me
Couldn't even get the one that I'm loving to come console me
Every friend ain't your homie, and I learned
You've got more L's than a driving instructor
Your lyrics are average, delivery horseshit
You're a joke and a stooge, call you Ronnie Corbett
Your bass is
and mc?s roll
But the albums they make never go gold
When I was young, I knew I?d be one of the best
Every time I made a song it came out so fresh
I was
pissed off
Need a pill, dog
Tryna make a brick log, we'd be rich, dog
Tryna make a brick log, we'd be rich, dog
I bought a nine and he front a nine,
Last call
Y'all made it to the end of the album and shit
It's a dreamer's reality right
I let you in my life
Let me in yours for a moment
Just
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
back but
Then you hanging in the breeze geeked
Missing everything from yo cap to your to your ratty old Jordan threes
Jeez
It'd be a dream to stop me
Outshine you cannot
Run with my guys
Your shoes is untied
Flows is retired
Frankly I'm tired
Thankfully wired
Calling the shots
J is the umpire
Slow
Down at the pier, kicking it with my crew
Yeah we stay posted with Henny and tools
Don't be a fool or get popped like balloon
Ten drum mags on Rolf,
album, what you hate me?
Arf
Said I was your dog
Said I was your nigga that let you see it all through the fog
Arrf
Said I was your mans and them
album's hot and your album's not
I done been getting movie deals
I done been getting paid like Vinzel
I done been by ?
And five double o's
And 1 2's
But dog what are you gaining by standing there complaining
Cause last year you were making songs about you're famous
This year you're sneaking drugs
off
(Put it down for the dog)
You say you got a man that we ain't supposed to talk
So you skipped on a day that we supposed to walk
When I hit your
be your salty dog
Fade it out bit by bit
If you’re gonna be my candy man, I’m gonna be your salty dog
Even quieter
If you’re gonna be my candy man,
Island
To shows at the garden
Automatic startin' in the drop got
Your bitch pussy fartin
My album about to drop in 7 days
But I still poke a rapper
dog
But the shit's that it hurt and burn deep
Its alright dog, everything gon' be alright dog
Rabbit, nigga, its your son
I'm down in your hole
Of them has to be small, y’know!
And you’re looking for this moment where
You sit in your BMW after
All the work you’ve done and
All the accolades you get
there can't be replaced
They made it cool in hip hop to snitch and that shit there be a disgrace
And the crown prosecute by the music we make got to keep
ranger
And if I don't got it with me on DECK
Your gettin CUT like a
Las Vegas' card player
And I ain't playing with you at all bitch
I ain't a dog trainer
nuts, then I (yeah)
Check my ball hair (what?), make sure it's all there (yeah)
Then call the pallbearer (yeah)
It's Music to Be Murdered By again, why
Discuss these by be your dog album the stooges 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