Lyrics:
Michael, way too many hanes
Can't be the shit
Surrounded by shit stains
Can't stomach me cuz I'm that pain
I'm Omari & you're seeing a Ghost, Taylor Dane
know its heaven, yeah yeah
Yeah, Heavens all in the mindset
Blessed by the most high, live and direct
You gotta learn what wrong and right is
Yeah I did
mother thinking that you on some other shit
Oh, what a job this is
As easy as it looks to you, I make it look so easy
With the music I'd be making big
a Vulcan
An alchie but I know outcome
Of mixing it with the talcum
The powder done got me tripping
wilding out on the mission
missing my uncle Evan
The beat
sleep 'cause you're little Cindy Lou Who
Down with the hurrah since the raising hell tour
Just listen to his cuts there's no reason to tell more
Cindy
sleep 'cause you're little Cindy Lou Who
Down with the hurrah since the raising hell tour
Just listen to his cuts there's no reason to tell more
Cindy
Years gone by like my stand made in heaven
Cant just trust anyone who calls them self Reverend
Angels here scarce or their engines are revving
late for that
(don't you ever be late)
Everyone happy? Yay!
Bob your head one time
I'ma make, make you bob your head one time, yo
Bob your head one
feeding Nigga not a shrimp he be a lobster
Head bob and Weavin off the weed like Rasta
I'm Cooking with heat like spaghetti just at the pasta
I'm from
the war starts with the drum
808s and low ends beating on my chest like King Kong
Gorilla warfare, the force here
You could feel it in the song
All
like this...
The part of Bruce the Duck is played by an oboe...
Louie the Cat is a clarinet. All right, he's not really a
clarinet. He's just --- you
We gone go back with this one dawg
Evan what it do, tell your mom I love her
Tell you about my dawgs, little Rascals Man
We were best friends
Engineered by Mark Evans
Mixed by Phil Bodger
Guitars by Robbie McIntosh (of The Pretenders)
Keyboards and Programming by Peter Vettese and Mark Evans
Drums by
girl's cunt - I surface with the purpose
To let y'all niggaz know the demo
Voice is a instrument that's monumental
You couldn't fuck with the style if you
(Like Oh)
Got the Mac-11
With the clip of seven
Bussin' rounds on me
Make 'em sing to heaven
If you want me
Better send the reverend
(Like Woah)
appear in clouds on some heaven to earth shit
Fake niggas drown the deeper the verse gets
Deep as a skinny girl's cunt - I surface with the purpose
Already on me
Shoutout to Fregley
Man, you so deadly
But that’s not who this about,
Songs about a real special guy
Who goes by the name Bob Duncan
(Hyah)
"Brown Sugar" by D'Angelo
In Los Angele's, like an Evangelist
I can introduce you to your maker
Bring you closer to nature
Ashes after they cremate you
There was one open seat
At the end of a crowded bar
By a grungy old man
With a dirty glass and old cigar
If you're going to drink bourbon Mack
By me
down, we can find a way to break through
Even if we can't find Heaven, I'll walk through Hell with you
Love, you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna stand by
me and Bob Marley
That we'd need to head to the creek with Chris Farley
Down by the river where my people like to party
Aye, it's like I on't dance
for back tracks
Favorite niggas in heaven
But I still jack his shit if he BIG im faith Evans
Speak on him then you know that I'm sending
303 saints
giving you Dap if you not the homie
Most of these niggas be sleeping on me
Now it’s rock a by baby, with macs and 380s
Ain’t want us to eat, but my niggas
focused, but my problems keep coming
I made the lean with the weed and I'ma move like a zombie
I see the hate, but I ain't tripping
I ain't stopping for
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