Lyrics:
years
I ain't just got ends, I end careers
Cosigned by the allmighty pac
When I drop science like? I'm not lyin'
Put a scar on your face like Simba's
glory
but theres two sides to everybodies story
so let me tell the story truth with no lyin I hate when my moma
call me cryin tellin me dre I
feel like
body's trying to understand it
I'm just like you, not knowing where this is going but I like the sound of it
I'm speaking it out, laying it down
Just
Oh Smokey Mountain train
Take me down your silver trail
Oh Smokey Mountain train
Take me down your silver trail
Got a feelin' like I'm homesick
But I
Yep, That boy young Canon lecrae
Thi'sl what's happenin'?
Whassup? Ya'll know what it is
Don't act like you don't know that
You know how we do it
back cross that field, every time we turn around?
pando and medusa kinda feel like that, if the dirty south
were ancient greece in utah. can our
on the corner of wetlands with a confederate flag for a headband
God dam eggplants, niggas getting' me vexed man
Cause I'm surrounded by garbage like Fred Sav
the sanitizer? (Jheeze)
Just flutter by, he said "Giggs can you handle this?"
He said "Float like a butterfly"
I bring truth, but they love a lie
Plans, I'm
You walked up to me
Cause you knew I was game
And told me the rules
Like you didn't write em babe
That's alright
Caught your eye
It's okay to feel
slick it'll make you feel all queasy
Make you do like Fred Sanford with "I'm comin' Wheezy!"
Everybody get down, huh
Everybody get down, huh
Everybody
a super-dooper MC party pooper
On a track so slick it'll make you feel all queasy
Make you do like Fred Sanford with "I'm comin' Wheezy!"
Everybody get
this is the hand I was dealt, a
Creature of habit, feel like I'm trapped in an animal shelter
With all these pet peeves
Goddammit to hell, I can't
Still cramming the shelves full of Hamburger Helper
I can't even help it, this is the hand I was dealt, a
Creature of habit, feel like I'm trapped in
Ahhhhh
Guess I'll go'n tell you my story
Sometimes I feel like a loser
'Cause I'm down to the "skee-taste"
Four million in my state
And some days
hats
And I don't like Proof, punk-ass, he think he tough
He keep thirty niggaz with him, cause he weak as fuck!
I ever catch you by yourself, I'ma fuck
you're off that)
Mixed signals, blow smoke, now we off track
And I'm Byhalia, baby
Yeah, I count Mississippi's like
Vidalia, baby
With the top
back I'm attacked
Fuck the knife in the back
Cause it feels like they got an axe
Yeah I can dig it with a shovel
I never dig dirt with the devil
tell a tale about this broad that thought she played me out
Yes, I was impressed, by the sex in her ass
W-U-I-S her, Versacci, down like Fran, dress
surrounded by vultures
[Babs] So many haters I don't know where to turn
[Babs] And niggaz be starin' us down like we got money to burn
[Ness] First things
the yards but the field ain't that
Can't feel don't trip can't deal no cap
No trap it's red hats on heads like Fred Durst can you feel that drip
Niggas think
so feel my rapture
Capture females details
"Sally sells seashells
Seashells by the seashore"
Trashy heels shread 'em angry doobie
Steady rocks in
through (aight I'm finna keep it real wit him now)
Real niggas don't feel dem nigga
And on some real nigga shit man I feel you niggas
We like we miss Pac
In the post
Like Ali on the ropes
Like MLK when he spoke
Fred Poteat ain't no joke
But Jesus was the sacrificial lamb
HE'S the great I AM
And I be damn
And he won't stop and he don't stop
Not to the bang bang boogie, but they like to gang bang
And rookies ain't the only ones that drop
Some say
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