Lyrics:
school hip-hop a beat and a rhyme
Some chapters and some verses, you seek and you find
Look no further here I go, Big Will, Johnny Inferno
Flame by
watt
Come Mr. DJ, won't you turn the music up?
It goes 1 by 1, even 2 by 2
Everybody in the floor let me show you how we do
Let's go, dip it low then
Southside lil Kici
I showin em, Everybody got on they Nikes
And you know what everybody higher than a kite
Or they just leanin in they seat
Smokin swisha
She probably stand right beside me
And I tsunami lil' mommy
[Chorus]
They call me young
My money long
I make it rain
Now loose your thong
Know I’m worth a couple mil you buying front row tickets
Rock my stage where the kids can’t kill you
Seen a couple niggas couldn’t hang ‘round with
Excuse me lil' miss can you be my Mrs.
I'm just a nigga from the Rock can you dig it
Seen you on the 'gram glad you not catfishing
Shoot my shot like I
Who that is? Boy, that's Mr. Stan on business
Any nigga wanna play, I swear to God he end up missin.
Broad day we hit his face, that lil' boy got
the one who blocks the door
When the tax collecter comes by
The tour hits the road, he spends his day (Big fat road manager)
At an all-you-can-eat buffet
determination can’t be stopped,
As we protest, rally round the clock.
V102 Woman 1
Not afraid to throw a rock!
V103 Woman 2
Or confronted by a cop!
V104
dishes
Washin' my clothes, fuckin' these hoes
With the bros, and ya know
And I'm, spendin' millis on clothes
Bad lil' bitches
We gettin' rich than
Mr. Rosenberg
No, I ain't no fuckin' dummy
Bitch, I'm Mr. Rosenberg
Mr. Rosenberg
Call me Mr. Rosenberg
Made fun of my last name 'til the cash came, Mr
shall be forsaken
And a new age has begun
Day by day to the lay, I always took myself to school and did it with my due diligence
Got outta bed every
yeahhhh
Gone rock with meeeee
Tell me all ya fantasies (All ya fantasies)
I just wanna know ya (I just wanna know ya)
Beat it De La Hoya (Beat it De La
to flashin' shit up like a camera
That phone ring, I'm baggin' shit up but I ain't trappin' her
You been at their throat lil' dawg, I ain't mad at ya
This
Mason Margiela my fit
Got the brand new Chanel, i'ma rock out the bitch
I rock the number 9 jeans and the off-white tee
That ho don't fuck with you
'ma fuck on that thot just to fill on her body
She a junk ass hoe, she be takin' them roxies
I'ma rock with the girl, ain't no Bobby and Whitney
Ain't no fat
Lil Uzi, Yeah yeah
You know I'm savage
.40 Glock posted on the block
And my shorty pop when that forty stop
You a cold rat informing cops
gig
Overqualified by the rent sticks
Red brick bash with a texted green screen
Like, "I entered my data right into your screen"
[Mr. Lif]
Jane went
L.: She got a fat ass but I doubt it
Tray: Oh yeah she got a fat ass
Mr. Lee: You, hold up Tray, he's killin me
L. used to hit it be
Before he
fall off)
I got a big bang theory my hardcore committee
Gon rock and roll the streets and shake the whole city
Affiliated with thousands sent out
And I ain't leavin' the house
Without that in my hand
And it ain't only the cops
It's niggas on your block
That talk like a lil' bitch and
Act like they
And the way that I survive is pumpin nickels and dimes
Pumpin rocks on the corner pumpin rocks cause I wanna
The little Don Ho drug dealer ? performer
what
Come, Mr. DJ, won't you turn the music up?
It goes one by one, even two by two
Everybody on the floor, let me show you how we do
Let's go, dip it
a cave
Hunter aiming at yo brain
Brain brain brain liquid
I feel like eddy
Grip machette
I'm addicted
But not by definition
Cause I kicked it
Flvco
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