Lyrics:
[Verse 1]
Once I had a friend by the name of Jones
cnd his idea sure was wrong
I [took?] ol' Jones for my personal friend
You see what Jones has done
and around
And if you want to chase that ghost
Baby, that's alright by me
Where you sold your soul
Girl, I told you so
Yeah, just don't come runnin' to me
czy byś była też?
Chcesz być moją Candy Bitch? (oh)
Chcеsz być moją Candy Chic?
Najpierw musisz przeżyć ze mną Candy Flip
Po tym musisz zrobić ze mną
shotgun with a shotgun
You riding with a rider pop son or get popped sun
Calling me your nigga how you figure? Cuz I'm not one
Let's rock bum cocked gun
sempre qui
E comprarmi tutta quanta la boutique
Rotocalchi foto con la tipa chic
E girare sulla Lambo Monte Carlo posto caldo
Ma restiamo sempre qui
a spanish chic my friends say
that loves head, salsa, merengue
mi favora con esta chocha
like Ricky Martin, livin la vida loca
Chorus:
(Beatnuts)
I love
to the bass, c'mon
Turn up the radio
They claim that I'm a criminal
By now I wonder how
Some people never know
The enemy could be their friend, guardian
side by side
And yes we get it on, one time most definitely
Further the mind, shallow waters and know life
Give me that water and love, we gotta make it
Intervals
Snapping every chance he get
Rapping like a seasoned vet
Acting like he is a hit
Macing all over your chic
This is really basic shit
This is just
to let you off the hook when I walk up those filthy steps to grease your fucking gate,
What makes you think you will,
Oh I've earned it just by being
Time: 3:34 beach bum music bmi/beachead music, inc. ascap
Producer: brian wilson/russ titelman
Remixed by brad gilderman at a & m recording studios
Cigarette smoke, red liptstick smudge
Super broke, but chic look like fuck (Bitch!)
Who yall bros fuckin talking about
Whose yall dudes straight
confinement
Independent never signing (QC)
Look at my dab that's a fool
2k15 are my shoes bad bitches by the double
I just want one of the two
And I got propane
it back to back
Got these bitches on my sack
Want my money bitches wack
They want my paper I don't lack
I get approached by imposters
They always
figured at five-to-nine
But look at Epitaph, he wins it by a half
According to this here in the Telegraph
Epitaph, Valentine and Revere
I got the horse
the middle at the top by the gate
On the grass with the crass Volkswagen estate
Whose is it? Mine! You're kidding, it's great! (Jesus)
I just love the way
we can act, like it's okay
Bum a smoke on the porch, be there one day
We'll be alright, with the time,
In the rest of our lives
Fly by, can't decide,
everybody'd speak
When he walked in they'd say (Hi Rick)
And when he passed by, they'd say (Dumb Dick)
Really hard-headed, cause he said he had juice
But it was
Hard truth soldier radio
Brothers and sisters, this is not a test
I've been asked by Public Enemy
Leader Chuck D to make this emergency
trippin', caught him slippin' with his pants down
Nigga don't run from me, brrra bum bum
Bitch, I'm trippin' with this drum on me
Yo hand out, I left it there
It's just a hill of beans to some
Bums talking 6-figure shit, while they taking their lump
See I grew up on the hill
But still I keep ready
Had
they ended up all broke, and now I'm stupid paid
Cartier my shades I still eat at Chic Fil A
Bullets ricochet, been knew they aint got no name
Niggas
love with my hustle and she love it when we cuddle
Her last man fumbled now I got a ryda like you by my side
Love it when you coming baby
You the ryda
heart broken explain why
Drive-bys on a daily
Ain't talking bout blowing horns
Rounds from a drum like bum bum bum bum bum
College or the bando
The books
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