Lyrics:
(ThisABeats, boy)
(Ain't that DJ Chose over there?)
Diamonds hittin' from a distance
They got Range Rover
I got money I could buy a bitch
A car like
Intro
Rap by R.Kelly
(feat. R. Kelly, Fabolous)
[R. Kelly]
Y'all know what this is
so bob your heads, yeah
ladies it's your boyfriend
was captured
By the boy with eyes of blue
As days turned into months
The sprite's love grew
She'd sneak into the mortal
To watch over the boy's sleep
He
at least a grand
Gold on my neck, my pistols close at hand
I'm a self-made monster of the city streets
Remotely controlled by hard hip-hop beats
But just
Fre
Fre
Fre
Fre
No freno estoy fresh
Casi llego al next
Pongo instrumentales y me salen los texts
Brillando cual LED
Sonando like Dave
Hice que te
I'm from trap house city
If you want it we got it you want it we got you want it we got it
coke Kush pills narcotics pills narcotics pills narcotics
a diamond the way I shine
I be the realest in my city, I ain't talking to no broke boy
She so fine but so coy
Hit it one time, Then I pass her to my boys
Know
A a a a
I want my blue cheese, no less then
Remember early nights, bitch I came from a basement
Tell 'em watch out, before you get fired with this
Bless this beat amine
They say I be too turnt with the energy (Energy)
Lately they been starting to call me molly-boy (Molly-boy)
That can't hurt me
Quarter-million in a baby blue Goyard
Buy it cash then I go in the motor
Drive fast, ain't no pullin' me over
Play with bags, you can tell by the odor
No
(grrah-grrah)
Fake shit, only come around 'cause we stay lit
Take shit, call Fat Boy Chubbz he gon' tape shit
Man down, bitch my city lit, we don't play 'round
We send them big trucks way up in the air
And snatch up big booty Bettys by the pair
My boys and dem boys really don't compare
Country boy, city
on the corner cried out, "Nickels for your pity"
Then gasoline boys downtown sure talk gritty
It's so hard to be a saint in the city
I was the king
stuff from you
And if I hit you on your head
Boy, its got to make it black and blue
Well, I'm goin' to Alabama
Got my pistols out by my side
Well,
on the corner cried out, "Nickels for your pity"
Then gasoline boys downtown sure talk gritty
It's so hard to be a saint in the city
I was the king
on sticky this shit icky boy I call it Vicky
White rapper so they wave I'm not Dave I'm not Little Dicky
Coda Moby Jones a superstar you know this shit get
a gas puddle ‘bout to spark
Or triple twenties when you shooting darts
-Maybe not the obvious pick, these Dave Blaine tricks
Catch a dang fade, laid up
nights that I pray
only when I went through hell saw change
Funny like that, it work like that
Dunno the game just play
Inspired by people like Dave, Drake
a lot shit sum things I can't explain
I Can't really speak on how I feel that's why I'm filled pain
Wish I had my brother by my side but lil O locked in
at the Opps, they jumping like bunnies
You gon have rainy days, but some gon be sunny
He see me in public, we made that lil' boy just stand still
I got the 8th
here in Philadelphay-ay
Oi oi oi ! She's my British Invasion
Oi oi oi ! And she's changing my station
Good by to my blue suede rock and roll Standing
distorting, bring it down a lil' bit
Okay, now we working with it
The boy Face on the bass line, Face - Mob!
Welcome to New York City, it's ya boy Young Hov'
distorting, bring it down a lil' bit
Okay, now we working with it
The boy Face on the bass line, Face - Mob!
Welcome to New York City, it's ya boy Young Hov'
come here, baby
Sugar, let your papa take you by the hand
Well, you be my woman
And I'll be your city-boy, country man
I'm gonna move up
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