Lyrics:
enough
Drive-by's, blood-spattered on my shoe, I'm not hood enough
But why cry?
I Waka Flocka Flame, hit your block up
Thug life, it's in my veins, go
offended by this, but that's the market y'all missed
That's the target I'll hit
And that's the heart of my pitch
I wanna do this whole thing different
What
feelin like the best, nobody fuckin with us
We done turned to a bygone don crew
We got the semi Kimora like Djimon Hounsou
A lifetime criminal, live by
Run through the city we're thunder
Killing this shit like no other
Run through the city we're thunder
Take over this shit man I can't ever bother
Run
Good evening, and welcome to eazy's playhouse
You stupid muthafucka
Now that you got the album
What the fuck are you gonna do with it
Bitch
The gin and juice gets me bent
You start the trippin' and flippin' and
Then ya hit the C
Niggas know a G like me don't play
Disagree, then I got something
snickers with no nuts no satisfaction.
I hustle and flow, mighta been by my cheese since I was knee high.
Weed what you need, hit me I'ma drop off
to Florida City, Opa-Locka
By way to Overtown and look at this city
Open to Grove and the South Miami
Wedwood Highlear, look Eddie, look 'Bana
Some many ice
me
I'm avant-garde with my sound
I innovated quick like my last album ain't just come out
If I had time to stay silent I wouldn't be here right now
I
screaming "FUCK CRASH"
Ridding with my baby and
We screaming "fuck that"
My daughter want more
So she be getting 3 a show
So this other bread can blow
What
Tell a whole story by painting a picture
Different colours by creating a mixture
Pumping out songs, like it's an addiction
Move to a new canvas, like
been fire, so keep this album on repeat
Been bobbing your head and tapping your feet
And throughout, we've been keeping it PG13
And these other artists,
Cos I got hits by the boatload,
Yes you know my steez,
Out with my Gs, check the drip straight greaze,
No I never been a ‘Yes Man’, I ain’t got no one
Been seven months since you left
Some nights it hits me harder than others, that's when I get depressed
I play your shit, but I had to stop reading old
Say mayne, I had this pussy ass nigga come up to me the other day
You know what I'm sayin'?
Talkin' 'bout "say Bun B
Bun B you gon' rep for P-A
hard headed for the fame
No this ain't a game, no this ain't a race
People gonna love me, some gonna hate
This other nigga was tryna fight me the other
cleats
Cause they're speech refuses to
Reach beyond the beach have a seat quick
(uh) I speak or spit flicks
On your cheap hit's
Time to complete shit,
The year is 1971.
Now comes the first of the children of Roton
Lords of the Underground witness the birth of the funky child
Doitall hit 'em
By way to Overtown and look at this city
Open to Grove and the South Miami
Wedwood Highlear, look Eddie, look 'Bana
Some many ice P-Rhymes rich
Just keeps reminding us of the struggles
They start pulling up pictures
Of us getting hit
By dogs and firehoses and all that
You know like, my daughter
Happy holidays
Let me come here and talk to you
I gotta stop sayin' I'm not doin' this shit no more knowin' I'm cappin'
(Great John on the beat by
'cause they don't understand
You can tell by how I walk
Man my pockets filled with green, I don't ever gotta talk
Probably see me in your city, heard it
More than the average bear that’ll roam around in the forest
You hit it off with Drea that jealousy was euphoric
That month I made an album and no one
on the dash
Nigga, you ain't gettin' money less
200 in your stash talkin' cash
Dirty paper, I'm eatin
I know you heard me hater hit your bitch
Tell her "I'll be
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