Lyrics:
me?
(Put me in that motherfucka)
Yeah that type of shit
You know what time it is
Maybe it's the thug in me
By age thirteen I was buckwild
Good at my
days
Dreamin' of Michael Jordan money like I slept in J's
Always shoutin' out my team 'cause I get all the plays
But they the ones that motivate me
of an eye
Somehow fifty-seven hears flew by
Fifty-eight, fifty-nine
Sixty he missed Caroline
At sixty-one Michael knew
There wouldn't be a sixty-two
Words and music by John Kay, Michael Wilk and Rocket Ritchotte
A ring on every finger, a girl on every arm
He drove his brand new Jaguar while
far greater
I am like Michael Angelo the archangel
If he was a dark natured art painter
Painting a picture of heart failure
Look at the all the trash In
a learner's fee
How to turn your girlfriend to a circus freak
Cool by the word of Keith, fabric by the hand of Zeus
Acting like you fucking with me, that's
a
lower middle class family with only one brother Michael whom I love
dearly. He was five years my senior. My father's nickname was Red which I
could
they bring me home
Let me run away
By the end of song
Let me burn in hell
Let me hang myself
Man, please No!
I... I... I got a wife and kids!
I have
steady
Wonderin' would you be
My little quarantine?
Or is this the way it ends?
'Cause I told you my level of concern
But you walked by like you never
That she won tickets to see
The Chili Peppers play
On Ellis Island
And it was for the release
Of their new album
By the Way
And she won the tickets
By
is going
Down by 20 per cent every year i just
Talked to the superintendent, met
With Michael Sacks, that’s Ron's
Right hand man so
I think it's
black, one chrome
Sounding out, outside your home
(Ah, right by you)
Two door coupe, let her drive (Skrr)
Heard that she curve all the guys (Curve)
All
Broken home, that's what I come from
Father passed away and mother Lost her way
Those nights I cried for days
(Cried for days)
Yearning for that love
thinkin' a tad bigger
You niggas talk fly, only fly at your last picture
And you look like the last picture
I just hit a home run, on clash with us
Ice-T, let me kick my credentials
A young player, bred in South Central
L.A., home of the bodybag
You wanna die, wear the wrong color rag
I used
When we were introduced by your girl Ruth
I knew that you got down skin caramel complexion, lips chocolate brown
(I'm wonderin' now)
Ugh, would
that's my problem, let 'em by
Nevermind the fact, that I've down and back
I've been around the fact, I keep my sound intact
It's like the essence of my
control I'll head back home
It's the young black Michael Jackson
They call me smooth criminal my death the final action I don't even need a casket
I Rest
don't need no clique, bitch, I'm good by myself, on bro, I'm ready to flash
I feel like Michael Myers, I'm out here in the bushes with my mask on
I'm
sauce that I got man I really got plenty
Dancing like Michael, I just got top from my side hoe
She live by my code, I'm doing this shit with my eyes
know Michael and George
At the rifle store
And Joselito, by the Home Depot
He gon tell his people put
Needles in your peehole (Gracias)
Your rapping is
mind because I be livin within a time
I gotta be so defined, by the rhymes I write every line so tight
And I might just fly like Michael's type when I
bring my ass home
Quit thuggin' with my shottas
But momma these my partners right or wrong
They know I got 'em
I can go no way without my shotty
I know
Yo hoe only know me by Peter
Yo hoe only know me by Peter
Yo hoe only know me by Peter
I'm Home runnin' pussy, I'm Jeter
Yo hoe only know me by Peter
.jpg/220px-Take_Me_Home_(PC).jpg "if u take me home.")
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