Lyrics:
ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me
Wind in my hair, I was there
I remember it all too well
[Verse 3]
Photo album on the counter, your
the real vibes
And did it all wit my tribe
Still here like Nowitzki dawgo it's no surprise
I stood by the guys
These three's forever fly
Promise that
Brr, Lord let me catch my drift, ah
Roll a big chopper
While the ride getting wiped down
The white I got right now
Will turn your wife light-brown
burst in the door
And started whoopin' her ass worse than before
They first were divorced, throwin' her over furniture (agh)
It's the return
about his everyday life, he ain't the same
Goddamn, I already had a hard life once
Am I supposed to recreate it every album for you cunts? Okay
You
only time will tell, but until then I'll be stackin' my mail
by album album sells, Magnolia wear dwells
I love them bricks, I love the ghetto hoes
'cause
a Porsche with only two doors,
need to upgrade cause you missin some
We just got two different bills, different styles, different sums
Started as a drive-by
Blinded by rage
Hunt em down with some stakes
A stab to the heart then they gone
Exorcize all my demons unholy
I guess I'm just sick
Of ignoring the shots
know this was supposed to be for my album tho?)
(Oh whateva)
(Its okay)
When I send a sickness (ease down) dark soldiers
Fallin' in with flying
Telephone call like
Blowing up your phone like
Knocking at your door like
Breaking down the door like
Hit you in the moonlight
I know you want me
Nigga I want this money 'til it's rich
Buy my album
Guarded by 30 Section 3
Go against the grain
I got to pee
I know you don't recognize me now
I done
to the club
Papoose, Pa-poose!!!
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
We got a riot outside homey (Huh!) and every hood with a thug
niggaz try to rush the door
single
buying public have got in your greasy sweaty horrible... oooh! How is your stereo still spinning around and
that little needle bouncing up and down
listeners relate
Let's put the beat back in, 6, 7, 8
This is the end of Opportunities
1 album, 2 album, is there a 3rd please
This bitch is going off again
Prince of the ghetto
Ny3 kwaami ny3 shaami
K3 moko lu3 ny3 tsaami
K3 noko hu3 ny3 kaami
Gamashi eba shiamli
Hol' it down for the Ga tribe aka kpata ny3
riding down E-L-V-I-S P-R-E-S-L-E-Y
Shades on my face, you can tell he high
Three white bitches, gettin head like a whale
Three black bitches with a tail
on shit
Everything I do is awesome
I’m adored bitch
The keys I give you don’t work
Knock down the door next
Y’all been wrong since I started
The same as I
three albums deep, but I don't wanna go pop
Too many candy rappers seem to be at the top
Too much candy is no good, so now I'm closing the shop
the dough
All you got is three niggas kicking at your door, ha ha
Here come the paramedics, here come the paramedics
It goes one for the ghetto, two
plaything
Don’t wanna stop this love we’re making
Scratches down my back and hickies up yours
Fuck from shower, counter, bed, and now floor
Oh who goes there,
marching down to the ground
To get out of the rain, boom! Boom! Boom!
The ants go marching three by three, hurrah, hurrah
The ants go marching three by
wanna be like me and me
Tryna blow up like TNT
But not for the cash or the p’s and green
Just by myself repping 3 and 3
Open doors are what I seem to see
Colors like stained glass
I see the fear in your eyes when we arrive
And what's the odds of
Even thinking you coincide
When every time a nigga open
A door
Musty fusty yet so crystal clear
The non commercial set is now here
Brought to you by the will of positve people
K are S plus One equals
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