Lyrics:
enjoy cock
She let niggas with money from my team
Train her ass like Floyd's pop yikes
They like, 'When will the boy stop?
Yo, son is the greatest, he
Everything is turning Easter colors time to get low
Brains gone awol I think I've lost my mind
Technicolor paintball I'm firing down the line
It's hard
think I'm pretty?" she asked
"Yes, of course, but there's something else
There's more than your looks"
"People are always accusing me
Of being pretty do
at your boy (holla at your boy)
You are a pretty fine girl and you got no boy
Holla at your boy e
No need for fronting (fronting girl)
Something (something
to land it in my backyard
Quarterback shotgun, you don't get any sack yards
Bitch, I ball hard, breakin' all the backboards
Pretty Boy Floyd, step up, I
women know that
Themba is the boy
They don't play with you toys
It ain't my fault, not my choice
And I push it off, like its nothing
Got pushed
Caligari's Hell in a basket
I've got... Millions of pots to piss in and I'm just that sick
I'm killin' the opposition with just one click
Are they really gonna
Broke boy
I got the cash flow
You come up I click fast forward
No features I'm an asshole
YSL on me Saint Laurent
YSL YSL
Did it by myself
Did it by
yeah (Boy)
It's on sight, uh
We'll snatch your homeboy if
You're tryna hide, yeah
Lower your tone, boy, I ain't tryna hype
Yeah i got the strap
this heat
(You won't do nothing)
I'm right here by the bar, my mans all know who you are
I know you think that you're hard but
(You won't do nothing
probably find the main jar
I been major, it's Rapsody, boy
I don't trust the score, I've been baffled by judges' cards before
Never leave it in their
anywhere
Cause I've got you, yeah, I've got you now
I've got you"
And you think my bruised knees
Are sort of pretty
And I think your tired eyes are kind
Got to stick and move
From Pretty Boy Floyd to Money May
I wanna make the time fly on your longest days
I wanna bring some light when your sons away
I bleed red for the masses
I got nothing but love for their daughters and beef with their sons
Streets said we won
And when the wolf cried, boy
until they’re tired like Floyd
Zombies play with dope that product no toy
Becky shooting up the molly like boy
The nigga told on you was probably your boy
what I've done
Who I am or where I'm from
If you don't know it by
Now then you just dumb
I ain't got no pistols, inf beams
Choppers or no Dracos
No car,
time, undecided then I drove by it
Benz coupe with the white tires, was a prototype
In the 305, drivin' 105
On the 95, hammer on my side
I've been way
and black
Big Jim lay covered up, killed by a penknife in the back
And Rosemary on the gallows, boy, she didn't even blink
And the hangin' judge was sober,
the beginnin'
Boop boop boopty doo
I want you, you, you, by my swimmin' pool
You, you, you, that would be so cool
You’re my gangsta boy you’re my gangsta boy
Come on, let's get the hell outta this joint
Frankie, when they get here we're gonna be dead
I know we are, we don't have a gun (Listen, we got three
off
By the time they're taking it safe
I already
Made the"front page"
What am I to say
Or to do
I've already gotten
So over you
Now
You ain't
Then they rate you
but gas disperses with no cause
I got phones in, but I don't want any calls
By Mccolls with four boys
Back when girls wore black
should've slept on it, 'cause I woke up in his bed
Pretty boys, they got nothing else to give
Pretty boys, they're too simple to think
Pretty boys, just
aching all the time
Goodbye everybody - I've got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, ooo - (anyway the wind blows)
I don't want
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