Lyrics:
you could
Whatcha know good
Sometimes life it strikes me funny
I catch all of my flies with honey
I don't stand on a pile of money
To make myself
way back home (back home)
The old me is dead and gone, dead and gone
(Hey, ayy)
I turn my head to the East
I don't see nobody by my side
I turn
Tryna get this shit cracking, finna go
Rolling out with the wagon
Etiquette is old fashion
Don't skip me when you're passing
I think that's a bad habit
Member' them old times used to hang out all we cared about was the crew
All we waited on was the summer
But now we got something new
Look at us ou
an escape (He got caught by the feds)
Just sent my momma some lobster and steak (Momma good know she fed)
Hoe asked me for bread so I sent her a cake (Yeah
driving through the Dairy Queen
Ain't got a Wal-Mart, ain't got a mall
We're old school, small town sticking around
Just like folks used to, good ol'
by damn.
Finally, find out what I am is a family man.
And don't expect me to hit the road
At a moment's notice without my suitcase
With some
house, now she lookin' real good
While the Big Bad Wolf tryna eat her out
Pay up, the cash is what we be about
Squares, we don't care if you don
losing her made me feel
But whatever you do don't ask the band if they know “Wagon Wheel” ..cause
That girl is a song wrecker
She ruined all my favorite
I was trying to come up
Them crabs aint want me leaving
Prayed I run out of luck
Prayed I wasn't breathing
Old bay them niggas is seasoned
And I
run, not even if they cry
See I can never fall, not even down their cheek
But I will always bawl, let's see who the first to blink
And I don't need no
they go from house to house
You don't have to pay the usual admission
If you're a cook, a waiter or a good musician
So if you happen to be just passin'
Let me get down when I rock the, the, the
Doug, this shit ain't got no fuckin' drums in it man
Damn, why don't you put some fuckin' drums in
Let me get when I rock the, the, the
This shit ain't got no fuckin' drums in it man
Daym, wht don't you put some fuckin' drums in the music
So I
of the streets (I know)
Live bad to die good
Know how to move when hustlin' by the days with no food
But just so I can eat (fuck)
And ain't it a bitch
And if
in High Noon
I swear I'll get the sweats if I don't get there soon
I think I need a lock-in down the Last Chance Saloon
Same old story, same old
these victories by myself
I knew she was up to no good
The second she stepped in my hood
Start asking my neighbors getting persuasive
Tryna find out if I
a wheelchair
Half days only cuz by afternoon we didn't really care
Momma fed me good, packin apples and pears
Faked i didn't have a snack with strack but she
He was 9 years old when his folk left home on a wagon heading west
When his mom and dad knew he'd grow bad by the mark of the devil on his chest
City jail city jail like an old scared dog I tuck my tail
Bow my head and not a careless word is said
Gotta sleep on the floor once more at city
gangsta, republicans with them big things, big rings
Get your head shot off, daddy you don't believe chains
Loose cameras, big hammers, Station Wagon an'
[Raekwon]
Old dro bottles, and blow, blowing from both zones
Laying in them Tahoes we own the projo's
Three for tenement we in the lobby with
Gonna be a good gay summer
Back blown out by the drummer
I can take all no runner
It's a good gay summer
He said he heard about me
Pretty in the face
Gonna be a good gay summer
Back blown out by the drummer
I can take all no runner
It's a good gay summer
He said he heard about me
Pretty in the face
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