Lyrics:
A chef's hat on his head and a knife in his hand
He grabbed me by the collar and began to shout
You better eat up all your beans, boy and clear right
By the way did I mention
Nothing 'bout me is ordinary
My friends all say I'm going crazy
I don't hear a word that they say
'Cause the voices in
nigga I was just Ableton
Not a fucking Logic contradicting dick head
Flyer than an ostrich moshing in a tar pit
Semen scented cheetah printed tee
In
By any means necessary
Couple million buried in the cemetery
Beamer, Benz or Bentley, jealous niggas envy
Got me grippin' heavy 'case a nigga
And This Wasn’t Staged, Smack Just Landed And Said Jim
I Gotta Get This Shit Done By Tomorrow Cause It’s Going In
rap niggas CB4
Open ceremonies you've never seen before
I'm the king of the kings
Hand me the oohwop, Lord
And watch me do my thing
I put a hole in
just to tell you my shit is hot
Can you grab a pen and jot down my final thought
Which is the lit end
I'ma be quick then cause I'm sickened
By a slim Jim
your face and I rip it apart
Shoving my blade through your heart
Hole in my head as we dearly depart, this shit my art
Most of you pussies are
[Juelz Santana:]
Catch me where you catch me
find me where you find me
in the hood or on the island
im probably by a palm tree
skull gang chain nigga
and said
"I can do no more for him, Jim"
With hands that were trembling
I picked up my gun
And aimed it at Shep's faithful head
I just couldn't do it,
and said
"I can do no more for him, Jim"
With hands that were trembling
I picked up my gun
And aimed it at Shep's faithful head
I just couldn't do it,
and said
"I can do no more for him, Jim"
With hands that were trembling
I picked up my gun
And aimed it at Shep's faithful head
I just couldn't do it,
and said
"I can do no more for him, Jim"
With hands that were trembling
I picked up my gun
And aimed it at Shep's faithful head
I just couldn't do it,
and said
"I can do no more for him, Jim"
With hands that were trembling
I picked up my gun
And aimed it at Shep's faithful head
I just couldn't do it,
[Lady TRU]
They say I'm worthless
[Sons of Funk]
They say I'm worthless, worthless, worthless
[Lady TRU]
And I'm up to my head in it
[Sons of Funk]
on a bloodbath in the street
Survive my nigga if you wanna get up
Better get with the Byrdgang
I can pipe, right? I can type, right?
Mines is real, nigga what ya
after you won't let it.
Ain't about to pick my rounds. This is in my way.
Plop is fast as my hole's down. Green glass and most of all.
Been around
and said
"I can do no more for him, Jim"
With hands that were trembling
I picked up my gun
And aimed it at Shep's faithful head
I just couldn't do it,
right here in my bedroom, yeah! Say yeah!"
Know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna get one of those tracheotomies
So I can smoke two cigarettes at the same
there, I need to be free
Because I feel as if I'm restrained
By now I'm done with being in a rut
It's time to start putting my head up
I'll make my voice
Rather be strapped and ride with a pole
Than to get down in a hole
Reach for my chain is suicide
The car I drive fit two inside
They mad at 'Ye
thrown in the hole
We chilling in the Trump Towers, onions and soul
Let's roll, cuz when the clock hit, my niggas'll bowl
It's like dice, nigga, open
and said
"I can do no more for him, Jim"
With hands that were trembling
I picked up my gun
And aimed it at Shep's faithful head
I just couldn't do it,
Rollin through the block bumpin Jim Jones So Harlem "shit is getting funny to me"
I got a hundred on the sack
Wit my buddies in the back
Dreamin bout
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