Lyrics:
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
and kick it wit' me for a minute
Y'know what I'm sayin', come and ride wit' ya boy man, Hey!
Y'all ready know what it is, hey,
We gone swing by some
bas, merde
J'passe le salam à Laxe
Bababam sur les racistes de l'Alabama
Si tu veux fly passe à la baraque
(Lausanne Sud)
Notre avenir on assure
Donne ta prod
Valentine's
Ten in New York, it's nine Alabama time
Moved to A-T-L, the whole East Atlanta mine
Billion dollar deal, I signed on the dotted line
Gucci 'bout
on the bass
From Alabama by way of
Los Angeles, Californa: Larry Larsson, yeah
Wanna apologize to Larry
I'm sorry you missed the Bulls
Socks, that's life yeah
all across the land
Light the fireworks, bring out the marching band
Uncle L, I love the heart land
South Carolina, they lookin' so tan
Out in
c'est de la corruption
J'ai les moyens vu le tarot du fion
Album en avance
J'apprends en taguant
Nonchalance [?]
Achète l'album sans la garantie
where the wind don't die
We even try to bake the cake or pie
????, bust on by for my niggas incarcerated
Where you gotta do life or get your
A-L-A-B-A-M-A my state, my state of mind 1985 wide body
lookin' for the little small town keg party
Wanna get drunk wanna fall up in a hottie, get shitty like
Dammit I show flows and poke holes that's supposed to be yo'z
Seekin my haters and in a dark alley tourmented by mine
Dodgin the [tech 4x N9ne 4x]
Now
The time has come, we gotta expand, the whole operation
Distribution, New York, Chicago, L.A.
We gotta set our own market, and enforce it
to Indiana
Chi-Town, K.C., Motown to Alabama
L.A., New York Yankee niggas to Hotlanta
Louisiana, all my niggas with "Country Grammar"
Smokin' blunts in
to Indiana
Chi-Town, K.C., Motown to Alabama
L.A., New York Yankee niggas to Hotlanta
Louisiana, all my niggas with "Country Grammar"
Smokin' blunts in
to my players left in the slammer
From St. Louis to Memphis, from Texas back up to Indiana
Chi-Town, K.C., Motown to Alabama
L.A., New York Yankee
gotta give it up to my homies in Brooklyn
Romeo Mt. Clemens to Metro Beat
From Huston, to L.A., back to Stoney Creek
Like I said, roll it up take
Detroit
Public Enemy #1 in Oakland
Public Enemy #1 in Baltimore
Public Enemy #1 in Miami
Public Enemy #1 in Indiana
Also Public Enemy #1 in L.A., boye
alley tormented by mind
Dodgin' the (Tech.. 4x N9ne.. 4x)
Now here's the message
Liberate me, Chocolatate'
Take 'em and rock now play
Do the fuck
primitive, I'm Olympian, now it's routed in pistols
Allow me to buy the album, child imbeciles
I was a coward out to intend powerful minutes for
The crowd,
being covered by Dr Feelgood on their 1993 album The Feelgood Factor, the last they did with with Lee Brilleaux. They became good friends of ours, and Lee
league
2018 now I’m scheming up a release
2019 and I reinvented myself
2020 I’m a put album up on the shelf
Break bread with the team and we sharing
the days
Young strays, posted at the L.Q. on Friday's
Waitin for Dice to give the go ahead
Hawkin 50 cent, puttin heads to bed
for a herringbone hear
secret in Alabama, my alma mater
Raised by Granny and Mama, came up without a father
Valley of Roses, the strongest folks that you've ever seen
From top
givin' away free tickets this weekend
Over at The Rose
You don't wanna miss it
Tonight, I got a very special guest
By way of Alabama
And he's in the house
there was a boy named Jake, cotton farmer in Alabama
Now, this man named Jake, he had twenty nine slaves
Only three wives though, that's pretty good for
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