Lyrics:
mad, just kinda sad
But it help that these hoes like rap
It's about damn time that the boy LD bout to get up in the fun shit
I'm the goddamn man like
with them boys, no backstreet
COZYMOB not a regular band
One thing about being a man
They cut off my feet, I'ma walk on my hands
Gotta listen more
We arose, let's go
So fresh so clean" like 'Kast
Jay-Z be poppin' tags
Leavin' the mall with heavy bags
You know the boy got a love for the cash
Nevertheless! Powerslave tour! Hmmmm. By the way,
Running Free... the photograph on the front of this single was by a man none other than Ross Halfing. He
blessed
Boy, no stunt double, I'd die by the set, yeah
Got signed up like a nigga protest
If I ain't a pro at it, then a nigga pro effect
Been doing
to quit playin' games like you backstreet
Do it so cold, everybody call me Nat King
Tour across the globe
Imma do it offa rapping
Say I can't, please say I
The corner with a burner
Put a shell to their back, like a hermit
This is just a warning dog you made us
They don't want it with them boys from Watts
acting mad cool
Used to act a goddamn fool
Like there ain't no future in this rap shit
Now she begging for backstage
Passes to Summer Jam i laugh
People in
There has to be some explanation for this insanity
Yeah, y'all niggas faker than that boy (fill in the blank)
Now give me the dank
Niggas claim they want
a casket nap
Cass' can rap, you can't compare him to me
I'm ya savior
It's like scripture when they
Hear it from me i snap back
(snapback) so cats in this
nightmares about my mama getting beat up in the yard
Wake up feeling like half a human
Hit the studio and unleash this guilt and regret
For my lack of union
reminisce over you my God
To the sounds of the Soul Brother #1
(Jump) all around like Everlast & them cause your boy back
Man I'm sick of this bubble gum
bitch I am D'Lo Brown
We go long, we go long, wide receiver a diva like Tinashe or Nia Long
Prolly get my ass beat by her security but at least she would
on his feet, ayy (ayy)
I'm lookin' at my son, and he grew a couple feet, ayy
Know I be with my boys and I ain't talkin' Backstreet (Backstreet)
They be
in the way)
No time to waste
Gotta get to this money, I'm runnin' late, yeah (I'm runnin' late)
Better keep a K
Boy, these bullets get drawn like
erupt like the Boston Mara, um never mind
So by the time you hear this, I probably wrapped an album
Y'all better fuck with this shit, I'm bout'a take you
Backstreets are like track meets
'Cause I be runnin' this
C'mon!
Chorus:
Ain't nowhere to run ('cause I be running this)
Ain't nowhere to hide (come on!)
Ain't
with a pride
City boy, fuck it up fuck it up fuck it up
Always on the roam, this city's my home
If I die, you can write the album title on my stone
Never
gone by things sure have changed
Technology's advanced and the worlds been rearranged
9/11, WikiLeaks and Kim Jong Un this world is going down like
make a plan, a plan
The man who made this album
I hope the outcome
Is how I wanted
I am being taunted
By idiots
Y'all is hideous
This album shall be
white boys trying to Backstreet they asses
Back in? The game done already had them
I handed they asses back at 'em
Madness occurred after that shit
It
deal
I like a big girl, I like 'em sassy
Going down the backstreet listening to Blackstreet
Running around the whole town
Neighbors yelling at me
tryin' to close it with a fast ball
I don't even do this shit for money but they buying it in droves like it's half-off
If Dicky gotta show out there
clue is
Ron Fair the Wise Men, Kurtz is Judas
With NYSNC I do this
Lou the Wise Men, Lou is Judas
Stoned with silver, them boys were Clueless
Sittin' in
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