Lyrics:
Tired of these rappers, tired of these jackers
I'm tired of these dances by these fuckin' backpackers
And I'm sick of all these hipsters, I'm sick
de conneries
By the way c'est Laurent Fortier, pour les rappers c'est Lary
Pour les jeunes filles c'est daddy pour la femme d'ma vie c'est mari
KEEP IT
Fat Joe, get breaded
My penitentiary family'll
reach 'fore you make a bet, when you gonna lay in a buck?
When you gon' bust these suckers upside
'Zy rollin' with my cateye, deadeye
Ain't afraid to flame a rat up
But I hot out fathom
My album hit the shelves
We hustle for record sales
Hit my
Keep it a buck I bought me a seat
I sleep with my laser pistol on me
I'm bribing wishes out of the genie
So rich I carry more than Marni on me
My
What about one plus one
Jamais de fumer sans feu
Jt'au volant d'un album number on
Jamais de fumer sans beuh
J'arrete si j'le veux pis i stop if i
featuring Big Punisher KRS One
[KRS One] Ha ha. Never fear. KRS!
Verse one: KRS One
I'd rather have a hundred thousand true heads by me
Than
and get shot like a puck
I hit on the first night I ain't cuffing it yuck
These some Rick Owens sneakers I don't do the chucks
You loving a slut
Took off
[Verse 1] Welcome to the land of misery Where my delivery strikes with madness Hearts explode from a touch of the 44 blastin (Party) By the killas
hit, fuck you thought'
Bum bitch smokin' that Newport
Hoe keep talkin' 'bout 'fuck me"
Man, fuck that bitch
Hoe told you she ain't fuck me'
Man, I
featuring Big Punisher KRS One
[KRS One] Ha ha. Never fear. KRS!
Verse one: KRS One
I'd rather have a hundred thousand true heads by me
Than
Pass the ball until we pass out
Vaye said we'd make a hit, there was no doubt
We lose our minds, where's the lost and found?
Had you by my side in cap
just take a moment to look at the clouds
No not the cloud that I pay ten bucks a month for
That take my files and keep them hostage
Even though I pay ten
(Ayo Jug)
All black like I'm Batman
Shot me in the ribs
Ain't feel a thing I'm off a xan man
Keep the perky's by me, they my up's
when I'm down man
I
fill up my cup, ew (yeah)
Fill up my cup, ew
(yeah) , fill up my cup, ew
Jban$, Jban$
Hold up, just lemme hit my cup, ugh
Rick Owen pockets, they
than the niggas round
Hit the med shop
HK said pick a pound
We don't fuck around
My team highed up
Blunts we fire up
Shop for the oz
Hit the dealership
off
Steady working on the album
Racking up the missed calls
Fucking niggas on the first night
What is with yall
I'm a hypocrite, I still will put you in
to many weeks
If you ain't got it Better have it by End of week
I be feeling like a milly everytime them chickens touchdown
I been fucking bitchies way
shit on your new album or what?
Yeah, I'm gonna kick some of that shit
But ah, partner I don't even fuck with the nine no more half
Man don't you
How freaky can you get to a long fat dick
Hella freaky like i said to a song that hit
I'm the dirty rapper Too Short, the triple X
Run up in
play by the rules like
Tock, tick, when the clock hit one
Y’all niggas is done
Buckshot’s it, you need to stop
It don’t matter, the Porsche
I'm chillin' at the crib cooling, booling
Girl by my side she is such a cutie
On top the dresser where I keep the toolie
Other one on the floor
boom on your black ass, bitch
You could get the finger, the middle (come and get some)
I thought I hit rock bottom, they ban my album, point
Yeah, this is what's happening right here
Go to MySpace, slash Little J X
Check him out, y'all
This the official mixtape before the album
It's
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