Lyrics:
"iron" the uniform
Under the bed that's where
Everybody ironed their clothes
You get two uniforms
So you keep one under the bed
For your visit, so by
Lincoln continental
I'm the mouth that roared swore to the lord
The eye of hawk both live and die by the sword
The forbidden the six man be sinnin'
down broadway beneath the j line
Slumped in the incline position
Mind travelin' beyond the shell
Which holds the soul controlled by the Allah
I be
this straight and fix your face.
I ain't gotta sell millions. I'm in the buildins
With poppy comin through with them bricks by eight.
Listen cocksucker
the hood
So meet me by the menorah lets get drunk [x2]
J J J Just a little story about last Christmas
About some bad kids who were full of wishes
We gave
rapides, beaucoup de peps
En un flash puis je zoom
Monte fort, step by step
But fatal, votre doom
Je compte bien faire comme Epps
Genre triplé, je les goom
and vaudefillian famous
For singing "Swannee"
Written with words by Irving Ceasar
And music by Ira
Gershwin in 1919 became a big hit for
Jolson in 1920 and was
not violate the camp, get shot down by chance
I'm real advanced with that cock and blast
Cause the feds wont look back, for cleaning cash
What cashes
fatal, what drug paper do
straight duct tapin', apin' a few
takin' Mo' and Henny straight and things loose
puffin' the fruits, thug in a duece
flaggin',
of a nigga don't give a fuck about ya'
Won't even talk about ya', ho
You ain't know? I'm just a hustler, in spite of myself
Ridin' all by myself, without no
that scheme for me
Come on somebody scream
Brick by hypocritical brick mentally sick habitus fatal attraction
To this fatal contraption drugs money
it ain't no Fatal
Dog and "J" without felony
At the telly, they yell at me
Play me I give you one try
And I'll let you live long enough to
Let you see
checks for unexpected marriages and kids
J's aged forty with the house and the holidays
Ray is snorting line and is betting his life away
Both the same age
phone, said I need it by the mental tone, yeah, yeah
I'll get a nigga poked up for some honey buns, yeah, yeah
Trap spot got plenty guns
Sold a hundred
M.J.Van
365 days, everyday we hustle from Monday to Sunday
We seeking for update, Mobese mi soro
I keep my eyes on the prize cos' no one fit run my
on me, nigga, ain't no pickin' on me
We veterans so it's better if you go get your army
A thug holiday is where your body lay
Me and Trick Daddy come
hommies from Akwa-Ibom to A-town
Wassup?
All my A-town boys how una dey?
My ABJ paddies where the money dey
Err'day I'm steady working, gat no holiday
But
Your gullet full of Adderall
Spraying on her face like a water spout
She calls me Red Ryder
When I shoot her fucking eye out
Baby J born today
And this
something's wrong with me as I gaze
At the grays outside while the blues inside
Got me nodding to a song of Billie Holiday's
God Bless the Child that got his
Level up! Aye!
Prayed for some wings now we elevated (Level Up Aye Aye)
Destined for the top by how I operated (Level Up Hol up, Hol up)
Another hit it's
what you be's bout
I mean for tonight ho
If I break them trees out
Pull them Double D's out
So I can J Holiday that ass
Before I leave's out
Holla
nigga
I'm aiming at your Beats by Dr. Dre, nigga
I put up some ornaments today, nigga
'Cause 'round here, every day a holiday, nigga
This that Sorry 4
Shit, tired of gettin shot at
Tired of gettin chased by the police and arrested
Niggaz need a spot where WE can kick it
A spot where WE belong,
Patek
What Part of the game is that
So you wanna fuck with a trapper, you said
I'm tryna grab on the back of your head
J Holiday, I'ma put it to bed
All
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