Lyrics:
Vegas
Bitches on the couch sipping' 'gnac no chaser
Cousins slappin' bones betting big green faces
Whole clique ballin' '83 Lakers
Poppin' my collar, Al
jeans
White polo, and gray Vans for green onesies
I wouldn’t have believed this shit myself
I had to talk to the prison psychiatrist
When I got here i
the Al Green up in a bag
I make her scream, I'm Mr. Felcher
Yeah, while she cooking Hamburger Helper
She on the pole she Santa's helper
It ain't
and vaudefillian famous
For singing "Swannee"
Written with words by Irving Ceasar
And music by Ira
Gershwin in 1919 became a big hit for
Jolson in 1920 and was
on a
Higher plain like Al Green
Now I mean, ay ay, they hear when I talk
Got that white girl and that
Green lady like Fairmount park
And this nigga think he G
I
windows down G's up
Riding in the top drop, with the music up
The windows down, screaming he's up
I'm a hustler by nature, its in my blood
Steady chasing
windows down G's up
Riding in the top drop, with the music up
The windows down, screaming he's up
I'm a hustler by nature, its in my blood
Steady chasing
to the pumps
Had you floating in the ocean
Now you trashed by the dumps
Nifty fifty gang, I was raised in the slumps
Pockets so fat like it's raised by
co-log- nuh directly into de duo-deenum of de unsuspecting victim! now he gone see if he immune to it by e
A dab hisseff!
(singing)
Flies all green an'
gotta mention my name When you mention the genre
Bitch
I can travel the zones of music,
Danny Phantom of the Opera
I need a bitch with green hair, We look
Jodeci... Al Green
Getting sexual healing bumpin Marvin Gaye
It's The Beautiful Ones you always loose like Prince said
Especially if she push a Little Red
broken bones.
Eating percosets and ice cream cones.
9:30 Club seems far away.
But I swear I still can hear him say:
"Al I got hit by a car.
You're
bin verliebt
Meine Stimme plus Beat machen
Dich higher als Weed
Machen dich abhängig, wie Saddam vom Seil
Ein Battle gegen mich ist für
Dich die Green
the pool
Eating roni in the hot tub tub back it back it up
Al Dente boys yeah, we up in the club
And I'm out here with the gang
Selling merch all my fans
ever decide to sing
Want y'all to love my music but i hate bitches that cling
You might want to get some more bars in before i start to zing
Like albums
On fire, no lighter (no lighter)
Hood like Al Qaeda (damn)
The ghetto
Got money on my mind (on my mind)
That's why I pull them all-nighters
In
nobody do it like us
Sunday morning play Al Green, make pancakes and watch cartoons
Sometimes get to change that scene, catch a plane and see somewhere
[Intro: Knoc-Turn'al]
Now that's cool
You know
I chill wit ch'all though a little bit
Fuck the music
I ain't give a fuck about that nigga
And he
[Intro: Knoc-Turn'al]
Now that's cool
You know
I chill wit ch'all though a little bit
Fuck the music
I ain't give a fuck about that nigga
And he
Yeah
Hypnoztize Mind
The club crazy right now
Hopefully you'll do
Globally
Finish it!!
[Chorus: x2]
Would you beat him to the flo in
And have you shittin' socks, bitch (bitch)
P Rock shit, leave your fuckin' knot split
Grab the green from Al by showin' him hot grits (hot grits, no one)
Telling you how music's supposed to be
Cos it's a game played by those who love celebrity
And that's not what music supposed to be
Al Green, Sam Cook
When you least expect it
We back up in this piece like yeast to bread
Underground you gotta find me
Like an Easter egg no need to beg
I hit the club
fo it’s gone
I been hustling too long, I think it’s time you put me on
I be posted by the corner, posted, posted by the corner store
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