Lyrics:
ain't nothin'
My flow un-killable when I be murderin' syllables
But I take my time, slow it down, check the rhyme
Perfectionist to the dime, from
shadows
First family, fifth cappo, micro to macro
Load it in ya head play it back slow
Act like you know, this is no drill
Murderous rap revealed goin
Jonathan, Fred Blue, Joseph, man
God damn, it's still happening
I don't feel safe again getting pulled over
Start sweating and shaking
Silverado, I'm tapping
like it got bit by a grizzly
And these drugs got me spinning like some capoeira
Still rock the slow beats with gold teeth
Ain't afraid to hold heat
at him, look at him
Wildin' (?)
Look at him, look at him
Let him go
Bobby Bland all in, BB king get out the way
Let him loose, let him loose
Let him
Plaza, make a left-hand turn
I'm goin' down to the crossroads, gonna flag a ride
The place where faith, hope, and charity died
Shoot him while he runs,
Hi-Tech, I sipping on Actavis
Back to the future we triple-cup now
Flipping in Mr Blue Benjamins
Sir with that scrappin' we double down
Ferragamo
sucked, when I pull out the Bent'
These hoes jockin' me, they wanna ride with me
They gotta be down hoe! Like Bobby Brown and Whitney
Life is a game
bro's
Das a give and go
Goin slow
Up and down the freeway tryin get sum dough
Mind is on a bag while you worried bout a fuckin Hoe
When i come around
Verse 1
Yo-Fresh cut-fresh gear-new kicks whata pair
Blaze up the atmosphere and toast for another year
Holla at my down south and east coast kin
I got by
Creflo pray Mike Vick payed bobby brown stray Whitney lost weight
Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write
That Mayweather money looking funny in
perhaps, perchance, be Mack the Knife?
From a tugboat on the river goin' slow
A cement bag, it is dropping down
Yeah, the cement is just for the weight,
I got by
Creflo pray Mike Vick payed bobby brown stray Whitney lost weight
Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write
That Mayweather money looking funny in
and then we goin
Avoid controlin
I just keep showing, my face and grasp
I'm Jim Carrey in the mask
Two sides of me, don't ask
I'm Ricky Bobby, I go fast
when they asked us where we came from
Chicago commit to never getting that confused
Grandma Mary played her records loud listening to blues
Bobby Blue
me, ain't nuttin' like some hood shit
Gotta love my dogs but ain't nuttin' like a good bitch
Strictly, if I'm goin down, she comin wit me
Whole time
me, ain't nuttin' like some hood shit
Gotta love my dogs but ain't nuttin' like a good bitch
Strictly, if I'm goin down, she comin wit me
Whole time
Screw type shit
Just a sad ho runnin' through the crew type shit
I got a bad bitch at home, voodoo type shit
Take down Meg Thee Stallion's by the group
and took the bland out
I know my grandpa would have a heart attack if I pulled a hunnid grand out
So I'm not gonna pull a hunnid grand out
I'm hip hop, do
but somehow I got by
Creflo pray Mike Vick payed bobby brown stray Whitney lost weight
Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write
That Mayweather money
what I want
She hit the gas said baby, I don't wanna ride slow
Haul ass
It's me and you all weekend long
Droppin' down that tailgate
Crankin' out
my plug was jemery lin
Mike Bibby ot they driving passed the Tenn
They just tryna get them blues off Bobby bland
Duke was slidin base but he aint make
all afternoon, and in the evening,
when the sun goes down, and in this slow taper towards
black night, rough outline, and common shawl. our fabric
shmurda like Bobby
Imma drug dealer still serving narcotics
Yeah, smoking that gas by the pound
Getting dem packs I get em around
Yo bitch want dick she hop
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