Lyrics:
the keys
We could make it happen if you don't buckle
Like when Rolando Romero fell to his knees
I'm like solid gold
Nigga I'm the great white
And I smell
safety
Since the Tunnel and Skate Key, my jewelry in HD
Silent rage, pristine in my vintage shades
I'm not in the winters of my life or the beginning
the tv, or a million CD's?
You ain't a mc, you ain't underground
You could be platinum or gold, hot or cold
But it's the respect you hold that's
as victims
I make music that dont fit inside the algorithm
Rap caviar Cabernet Sauvignon
Foie gras Delon gold flake filet mignon
Bottle by the buckets Count
that white just like my soul ain’t only white
Half my piano keys are white but then the other half are black
And THAT is the half that my hands like
on the cd Woffer Speaker talking shit
One eye in review for bullshit
Cause I ain't tryna go jail for Some bullshit
Sun got a Nigga mean mugging
So I slide
you high
I lift you when you low
It's black to the basics
Black to the basics
Black to the basics
Black to the basics
Strictly for the gods
I'm calling
Gold sabre, black bell bullets, they hurt you
Car Louis, gold metal, skip across the beat
Sometimes you go around the world
To get across the street
I
in a line, mida make a move, cross a state rollin', to whine.
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Submitted by Nathan Speer
HAG ME:
I caught my ceiling
I got the key to the streets
I got the key to the safe
He wanna see what I'm selling
I put the key in his face
I just got back from the dealer
I got
Darkest Acoustics
Black slaughter up from under
back of beyond the lash /swish
Existence level cockroach
Even there the serpentine
between the keys in
You know what happen when GOOD
Music and MMG get together, right?
We get that money
Millions-millions in the ceiling
Millions-millions in
I'm tryin' to do right
But I'm surrounded by wrong
Avoid the all night flight
And still make it on my own
I'm tryin' be cool do what I gotta do
But
Jimmy Kimmel: My guest tonight is a
21-time Grammy award winning performer
Who last month threatened his very existence
By threatening one
to the game
Cant be selling c.d's 'n' still selling dem thangs
Cause bitches drop names 'n' bring a lot of problems
'N' puttin' something in they head
Oh
As the city lights up the night
I feel so
Good cause I did it my way
And I know
That I'm just livin' the life of girls and gold
And I feel so good
Don't replace if it's gold
Water tower's on a roll
The water tower's black
Or maybe it is white
It must be black though because that's the only one
her story—did anybody ask?
Hm, with all disrespect
I think the American flag was designed by fags
I had it locked before the spotlight
I got a gold
low key
On these icey Roleys, dude that showed me
And hoes ignored me, now they blow me
Them niggas that loaned me, now they owe me
Oh me, oh my I can
Fools die a million deaths, solider dies once
Put that on my gold keys, my gat, and my blunt
Candy painted hummer, triple gold D's
We bout it, eyes
to the game
cant be selling cds n still selling dem thangs
cause bitches drop names n bring alot of piorblems
n puttin somthing in dey head the only way u gona
flavor: original
Four black rubber gloves, I
Ain't even kidding, Y'all
I got a handkerchief and half
A pack of Chiclets
A gold adapter and some old raffle
up some black leprechaun
In the Grubba leaf
Pick me right up woah
Pick up the mic or the keys or the pack i don't care it's a flip it's a buck it's
from Far Rock hoppin'
Over the turnstile
To set up shop up top by the Jamaican spot
My joints have been a
Bop, from vinyl, cassettes, cDs and streams
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