Lyrics:
Take off ya clothes to go gold, sell ya soul to live lavish
[Verse One]
It seems every man want to be a pop star
It's obvious to me that you forgot who
And you ain't got nothing to say (what!)
Well it's album number two right (yeah)
So you gotta let 'em know (that's right)
So do your thing (yeah)
Take
she drop it low)
I'm finna take her to the ho
Tell me what's your name again
By tomorrow I'll still forget
(Aight, I'm off that)
Gotta own some property
tweed or no yak
more like 25 pounds of get back & I can tell by ya
walk it's talk back but if that ain't yo case let me take a ride
on yo' love
Sent a love letter to the ecstasy
Crashed my car
Ya so I made an album
Ya no shit they're fucking listening
Just play the song
Off the X for me
sense-sense of all this shit around me
I didn't know how to take it, how to perceive it, you know what I mean
And then meanwhile I'm supposed to be going
the stu and spits his damn mind
That's talent, That's generational
Y'all like groupies watching his every move)
If my album don't drop
Prolly got caught by
try'na gain attention
Now I'm runnin' through this game lynchin'
And I heard a few cats tryna take shots on the low
These XFL rappers tryna fuck with
die though
In New York, Quad Studios, gettin' high though
Off that sour diesel and that hydro
This nigga take an L every time he go viral
Welcome
Vibes
VIC MENSA, what's up, baby?
Uh, I chop the sample, light a candle, let my mind ramble
Game of life, I had to learn to play without
by myself and I
Can't stop, no, fucking with these bitches, gotta
Lock down, cause my heart been feeling extra stronger
Want you, but I know I can do
with this tool
Just cause the name say Goodie, you take us for fools
Out they rabbit ass mind, don't give me mine, I go off like mines
Blowing suckers
'cause I'm coming, it's my album
And for the record, meaning my record, check it
Listen to the single and you'll be like, yo, I gotta get it
But in
linked to me like a chain my queens drip in crystals
If you wanna bring the pain I can bring the pistol
I’m so original, take the game like Jackie Mitchell
they skippin' class
Makin' a mockery, showin' they ass but it's getting spanked
By the grandfather of the land
Like my old head Vic said, they always
How ya album doin'?
I'm gettin' cake off of my latest
Anticipated like the iPhone
Respected in any city that I roam
Summertime
Wintertime
take what I want
So, you tried to front, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
You ain't real, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
My, first album had no famous guest
take what I want, so
You tried to front
Hope you got yourself a gun
You ain't real, hope you got yourself a gun
My first album had no
Famous guest
know I been firing it
Once you go pussy you never go back, get off my dick, n' cut me some slack
Keep doubting, bitch
Take notes, take notes, take notes,
Surrounded by some scammer bitches, but I want you (ooh)
Space coupe, UFO, take off, vroom (vroom)
Chopper bite, achoo (achoo)
Dropped 30 on some shoes (ooh
to switch the hue 'cause them LA boys smuggy
But more likely to get hurt by somebody who love me
My lady, she don't trust me (nah), know I'm a sick puppy
been?" "On a little vacation"
"Oh, by the way, congratulations
Who's the lucky man?" She said, "I got him on file"
Then she said, "It's Spice 1",
for Chino
Hills to the Pac
To the valleys of Encino
Lyrics by the Doctor
You're invited, take a seat yo
Visualize the audio
Its album number cinco
Hellcats and trackhawks
What you hiding from, like future gotta take your mask off
Like a rocket finna blast off
Run up on me, I'll put em in
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