Lyrics:
Ireland needs a vision, an aisling
To move on from bacon and cabbage
Potatoes, leprechauns and jaysis Mrs Brown's Boys!
My Ireland is checking itself
After
confidential than Fort Knox
Sort of tool, glock, automatic on the static
Synthetic, plastic, you stay ready with the cascet
I throw a style, now a freak wants
bang!"
Black Tee, black tee, bottles in the air
Niggas think J-Bo and Meech back here
Niggas think Charles Black back on set
Niggas think Tera White
Rollin' in a golden Tacoma, the shit's stolen
If that bitch tell on me, I'ma do a fuckin' drive-by in her colon
With my meat, gotta keep it obsolete
did a thang
But God chose and put me in a Rolls and
Keeps my wrists frozen, never brown nosin'
Like an explosion, I'm causin' commotion
Spit
to my chosen under an apple tree
"Let's get married," I don't walk, I get carried
By a motorcade of voter-age women on rollerblades
In cute sleeveless
Rollin' in a golden Tacoma, the shit's stolen
If that bitch tell on me, I'ma do a fuckin' drive-by in her colon
With my meat, gotta keep it obsolete
these rims up on another pothole
Okay
Motivated by motivation
My momentum is monumental
What I discuss, that shit discreet
My business is confidential
council
I'll Keep it confidential like Breonnas setup in the household
By the cops, OPS, exercising rights
Never felt so wrong cause that's when you
I was your best-friend
Oh you 5'5 with the pretty brown eyes
Say I couldn't know your name but I could know your sign
And I ain't playing games girl
been hustling all day
The police and the cameras
They've been watching me
Confidential informants
Trying to rat
So they topple me
They see me building
don't get fed up
My people rise, my people fight
My people do alright
My people walk with pride and
We're marchin' side by side and
My people laugh,
and ran niggaz out of town
I ripped up mics, showin wack niggaz how to sound
Still your essence, was callin
By two gunshots, at close range, your frame had
comrade nigga
Drug money, blood money in a brown bag nigga
[Chorus: 50 Cent]
I know you don't love me, I know you don't love me
You ain't the same whenever
comrade nigga
Drug money, blood money in a brown bag nigga
[Chorus: 50 Cent]
I know you don't love me, I know you don't love me
You ain't the same whenever
bigger
Trying to rape the industry, like Dame Dash and Jigga
Jeah I'm truly blessed, by the man up above
And he showing nothing but love, for his son
where you fit in cause I have options
I’m talking brown or yellow…far from loud but mellow
And knows my presence is a gift so every hours special
Treats
luv
No hugs and being surrounded by Thugs
Chilln with my uncle and cousins out da mud
From Beaumont to Lake Charles Nigga it's all luv
From a young ass
on the roger
Flex on blocks like the roc Pushing two drugs
Brown Dickies on Red brown Freddy Krueger
Vietnam projects Nigga where I Grow up
Young OG in trap
on tha starter,
Watch wat you say to me get it put on ya,
Fucked by a chick in a skirt named karma,
Word I'm a mama I ain't for the drama,
I'm
for the record, it's gotta-be said,
He came in all colors - brown, white, black and red.
And some "cow-pokes" were yellow, an' these are the facts.
Robert Johnson, that Muddy Waters, that James Brown, Augusta, GA
That Ray Charles, that Stevie Wonder, that Mayfield, that Superfly
That Willie Hutch
Impacting culture fighting off the vultures
Show you how to move in a room full of
(Okay)
This Ray Charles and Rick James
(Bitch)
Sam Cooke and Etta James
cut that shit out)
Yeah, I just spent twenty-thousand just on the coat and shit
Ayy, blind to the bullshit, call me Ray (Ray Charles)
My location is
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