Lyrics:
indie records show up in a W-E-A box?
By saying your independent, you belittle the whole movement
Real emcee's work hard, ain't got investors to put out
for the freak show
Uh, shorty on a molly, um prolly
I'm ridin' with my niggas and we finna catch a body
I check into the telly, you just meet me in
a show
Like what you saw tonight if it hadn’t been
For my experience in Paris learning
How to minimize and make
Design decisions, how we started with
Just
ignore the past
Before your ass got SMACK involved
You was playin' basketball
On the ground ballin' so
I signed your Spalding
I ain't have time for talkin'
they're taking toll
If you've been bad, Lord, I bet you have
And you've not been hit by flying lead
You've not been hit by flying lead
You'd better
to bust the 411
'94 is here
We gonna have something new for you on this next album, man
Yeah, we gonna have something new for your asses
We going to keep it
feel to pick up the mic and vouch for them.
You know we got girls in the north, girls in the south
girls in the east, girls in the west
big
Spread in the city I'm plumin'
Boy you got me hot, fumin'
We all make mistakes we human
Yo, I'm playing shows, getting paid by the fistful
Talk cheap
it and then blowing it
You would think I had a curfew the way I'm going in
Look at what we rolling in, causing pandemonium
Probly got them keys
fool, nigga
Every clip we got extended, yellow Perkies look like minions
Put Church's Chicken on you niggas, scrape them boys for half a biscuit
You
niggas buggin', I heard they stung you
It's gon' be trouble, we come through and catch you while you cuddle
Them shotgun barrels like tunnels nigga,
Assuming that you would know what to do
But obviously it's poor taste to assume you have a knowledge base
So here we have an explanation, an epilogue,
it's going to feel when we hug and kiss
Sugar, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you...all right
Sss...mmm
Yes I got some candy kisses for
sounds, you only hit the rim
We got bars for rounds, don't believe me, just ask Grim bitch
I park a lot, which bitch you got
You shootin' shots,you better
a show in Miami
Let’s feel the breeze
Follow me, I’ll show you how we feast
Hit the lab and never leave for weeks
You weak must got your rhyme book
waitin' long and hard
So we savin' it all, we won't play you a lick
That's why they got me on here rappin' 'bout the shit
But for ten years this album's
dead I'm
Just showing y'all after I
Kill a Dot I got it in for Red (InfaRed)
And if Roc owe me a
Rock that'll get you killed
So you better have my cake
to Treach
Bit the Pharcyde then A Tribe Called Quest
And you gots no respect for me, is that right?
Well jump your ass on the train witcha backpack tight
your title is seven
Takin' out your four man crew makes eleven
By the twelfth well I'll go for self
Rockin' New York like no one else
You can
sees it
It's therapy season!
You want album 3? Then give me a reason!
Why should I bother stressin' again?
Why should I wake up depression again?
Won't
Evans
Bob Evans, yeah, I got that association, Bob Evans"
I was with my friend's sister Debbie
When I was 18 in Ohio at a local thrash metal show
We
"I don't have a bedtime, I don't need to cum
For I have become an amphetamine bum
If you don't like sleeping
And don't want to screw
Then you should
a comment if we need to speak
All you niggas who did less for me, tryna get next to me
I don't trust you niggas with no money but got expertise
Level up
We'll have the power
Power
We'll have the power
Power
Power, it starts with P like pussy
She knows she's got it,she doesn't worry,does she?
Spendin'
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