Lyrics:
hours
Or not
If immersion in audio hasn't occurred by sixty minutes or less, then I have learned to stop
And shift to other activities
Something
brothers, so it hurt to hit the internet to find out that me and you don't fuck with each other
Over a miscommunication that probably could be fixed with
This is your album, so that means you definitely got to get funky, so run it
[The D.O.C.]
Swinging, singing a brand new rap
On a rhythm concocted by
you want it
Yeah I told you never
But tonight I'll spend some cheddar on it
When I hit ya town just make sure you hit me up
The other night she told me
eyes
Said whoever hit him for the average poor asshole
'Bout to be hit for they biggest surprise
Now meanwhile, still short on pot to piss in
Not
we together we should put it in a song
Anytime you feel you drowning mane don’t let it guide you
Let me make an album bout it called Penn’s Bayou
By
cocky till gun a gun cocking
Thats enough watching from the sidelines, peeking my eye by
All I knew i had to jump in, I'll be a nice guy
Three albums in I
Yo what's up guys welcome to the Nasy podcast
It is your host, King Squishy
And welcome to this lovely album we call "The Youngins"
So today I got
Even if I made an album
With a Punjabi hit-squad
Clash me, I'll make you jump like Kris Kross
Make a man know, that I'm not a nimrod
And if you still
and diss you
Everyone saw me on the last album cover
Holding a pistol, something far from a
Lover, beside my brother, s-c-o-t-t
I just laugh 'cause no one
has hit my mailbox
And has not been stolen by my former houseguest who has my Spare keyring
A hundred to the house for their hospitality and $55 to my
the frost hit
I sunk to find the warmth beneath the mosses
With a plan to tunnel past after
The rains have run their courses but alas
The portrait's of these
who's spitting better
While these rappers kill each other, them Jews they stick together
Like glue, and generate more money than Fubu
For something
button
We dropped this album yeah it's really sudden
I don't give a shit about your fake judging
You just jealous bout the beats I be crushing
By the time
chains I could spot biters for acres
Now be gracious, these minstools turn a bully's psycho civil
By dissolving the candy coated image down to the pixels
I ain't impressed by a killer
I'm impressed by a hustler who's taking care his mother and his brother
And his significant other
Put his niggas in
Crank up the volume, what you value lately?
The album out it sounds amazing and production wavy
They love to hate me
It wasn't cause I hung around
This is your album, so that means you definitely got to get funky, so run it
[The D.O.C.]
Swinging, singing a brand new rap
On a rhythm concocted by
to a beast
My brother got life and it turned me to the streets
I been through the storm and it turned me to a G
But the other side was sunny, I get paid
labels hang you by a rope now
Sold out
These labels leave your body coked out
No doubt
And on the day you overdose, count
All the album sales
This the Outro on the
Album Of The Year
When truth seekers meet gate keepers with loaded heaters
Haters never check us it's tricky like my Adidas
ain't finna see a) mogul get emotional
Every time I hear 'bout other niggas that's stroking you
Lying say I hit you, he sitting there consoling you
I ain't never ran never will how you feeling yo the fam know the fam know the deal
Hit the spot hit the spot just to celebrate let them hate
fucking dream, I'm sleep paralysis (Hoo!)
Since the album hit, I've been stackin' chips tryna balance shit (Uh)
Really pulling strings, got my fingers
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