Lyrics:
little lamb, little lamb
Debbie had a Satan spawn, Satan spawn
Mama, why do they keep saying this? I just don't understand, understand
And by the way,
is foolish, that was my views
I'm back at it, the rap addict, by any means
We gon' get these stacks accurate, no skinny jeans
Say he ain't a star,
Where we at with it?
Block West, let's get it
Slums of Detroit, drugs on the port
Plug with the source
Gun in my shorts, blood was the sport
and the white trash connection
No flexin', huh, know what I mean
You can feel us fool, we don't need to be seen
It's all about the green, not the drugs we be
to the chicken
While I'm facetiming
Truck driving, screw them blues closed
We be freight lining he faking jack
He run the streets and chase commas
But will he make
bends
Let's begin and pretend it's tranquil
Upset stomach on the boat to Lucerne to see the lion
Carved in the wall by the pond, nigga
To commemorate
dawn
Detroit taliban clan when the war is on
No white sheets unless the coroner comes
My height reach from bright peaks to lost slums
I shoot the fair
Red Chip Funk
Performed by Twenty-something DJ Franklin
Lyrics and arrangement by Raymond Francisco Quinton
Produced by Rabid City Records
(C)
to stop by and check us out sometime
He looked at me like I'm out my mind
Shook his head like, "White boys don't know how to rhyme"
I spit out a line
little lamb, little lamb
Debbie had a Satan spawn, Satan spawn
Mama, why do they keep saying this? I just don't understand, understand
And by the way,
feel)
A young nigga sellin' fruity by the pound (that's how ya feel)
And I got the best white in the town (that's how ya feel)
.45 on my lap, it's
face down
Hoodie gang strong like Trayvon
Gun by the window like Detroit Red
Bring that shit by the neck of my woods
And bet a nigga ass end up dead
rock
make your heart stop cause I'm bout it
Jack you like a New Jersey drive
My niggaz are always down for that who ride, I ride
Creep with these
In fifth grade
And start taking
Drumming lessons with Mr. Scott
And that dude
He started me
On the snare
With that
Blue and white book
It's called
don't turn dookie
Cause we'll be lookin' like another Detroit, Michigan
Not a diss, shoutout to Detroit
Don't miss the point
Have you at pistol point,
blow for me, I maestro, shit
That white whip sit
Like a slight wrist slit
Suicide shit, you can by shit if you write this shit
Nigga and right this
alright for the shape I'm in
Sitting by a fire with some damn good friends
Willie on my left, Jack on my right
Blowin' that smoke on a Friday night
D.C., Tampa, Chicago
Dallas, Memphis, Detroit and L.A.
So call in now, 1-800-High-as-a-Motherfucker
That's 1-800-,High-as-a-MOTHERFUCKER!!
DOCTOR DOCTOR!
snakin' on
Gangsta shit is what I be on
Hydroponic chronic what I'm smokin' on
I stay high I'm in da ozone
Jack Skellington bitch I'm dead n' gone
Killa'
Laws in America were made by white people
For the benefit of white people
The constitution was written by whites for
The benefit of whites it was
"While they sleep, we working!" Co-signed by Ashton
Jaden Ivey on the wing, get that boy the rock
Electrifying through the air, a "Detroit Shock"
And it
Yea, yea
You know what the fuck going on nigga
Yea, yea
Alright!
I hit 30 that's a mud fight
Hang around my white bitch, got me sippin'- ew
Didn't
on that D Usse
Or Alize
It's pay day
Paid in full like Mitch
Just like Roddy boy I am getting rich
Oh in ATL ball like Roddy White
So damn fresh just like
mike jack
Know i'm 4k but i went and ran up 5 stacks
Told the jeweler i just broke my wrist i need a ice pack
Know that i was gone for a minute but i'm
.jpg/300px-Mitch_Ryder(ThKraft).jpg "Mitch Ryder & the Detroit Wheels")
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