Lyrics:
me
i be in the streets u tryna find me
if i was hair u couldn't die me
cuz i been in squares u can't line me
we made sales by the ockie
boy i run
the swishers and we Rolling em fat (Thick)
I like a bad bitch and she thick with some Tatts (Mmm mmm)
Im selling them percs line up who Want em first
Slimed up
house
Man it looks so ignitable
Don't need a line to go all up in your place
Put you down with a pillow when I hold it to your face
You try to spray me
dirty, then go take a bath.
Messed up the line?
Nope, sometimes I don't rhyme.
Help yourself to a cracker, with a spread of cheddar cheese,
Have
then go take a bath.
Messed up the line?
Nope, sometimes I don't rhyme.
Help yourself to a cracker, with a spread of cheddar cheese,
Have a neck
But I'm down by law and I know my way around
Too much, too many people, too much (aha-ha)
Too much, too many people, too much, Raaah!
A castle
jewelry and clothes
Right after that, I got dissed by all the hos
That I thought was mine but really never was
Soon the whole neighborhood got
toes
All hail the Emperor's new clothes
All the troops hold up their chins
As the show will soon begin
They scurry by and shuffle in
Each one wearing
parking and
It's that gangsta instrumental original indo
For the hoes in sexy clothes
They nigga never touched the bank roll
Lemme get that
Drop that
again
Sipping Hen
Staring at that white girl from Michigan
She was with a friend, fat ass fly ho
I went in for the kill, ASAP, pronto
So wait boo, 'fore
though
Sales goin up
And I’m feelin’ like I’m Chapo
Grabbin’ by the O
I ain’t feelin like a deego
Bad catties on my line fuel my ego
Freaky lil ting got
pain penicilin crack and AZT couldn't relieve
Being Sizzlean I will trim the fat like Susan Powders
Disrespectin burners like cap, lickin off
a pocket full of money, bank roll on fat
These hoes stay in line or get they grill straight knocked out
Stay in line or get put out your own house
I be hard
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
I crossed them state lines just to be by somebody's side
I'm thinking bout you
And every I wonder bout who's name I want attached to mine
I'm thinking
the tectonic plate shift I
Create is so great
That by the time you reach me the earthquakes
The booth was my birthplace
I'm used to the static
They say I got
my line and I’m on my way When I say I’m outside
Meet me in the drive way
I got my hair pulled back
And my ass on fat
Do my actions show you that I
ignore!
V25 Group
(and individual lines by each)
1/2 group 1 & 2
Agreed…
1/2 Group 3 & 4
Here here
All Group
I say we finally ignore
1/2 Group 1 & 2
The artist’s
Enemy
Such talk
Hangs our
Clothes on the floor
Puts our
Faith in
Esprit de corps
Catching
Our breath
You get Dear You
Jet Black cuts too true
Satan Claws
Written, recorded, produced, engineered, & performed by Broc Jesch (Breezy)
1st Verse
Christmas is all fiction made up by some dumb
things started
Get retarded, and one two, I'mma fix these artists
Take 'em one by one, tie 'em up, line 'em up
Treat 'em like a cigar, fire them niggas
and start aimin' rhymes
My shit will have hard niggas in soul train lines
Bumpin' wit' this big black broad named Belinda
Oh you rap don't say jack
She scrub em up, her legs that is
Fat puddy cat wit a head that's trill
The type of bitch have a nigga not paying bills
Fo real, by our God damn
new side niggas
Might get loaded but they do ride niggas
They stuck in line, but right after it's all over
The block party jumpin' at Washington in
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