Lyrics:
think about it that's a Billi'
Everybody know that boy Sinatra, he the King now!
Nobody want to step up in the ring now
I sacrificed my twenties now
bit of somethin' to show you boys where I'm comin' from
Deep Roots need a Questlove give the drummer some
Bred on WuTang Biggie Smalls KRS One
Hip-hop
muscle muscle
I talk with my chest
These little boys they like to mumble
Make a murder mess
& that's the way the cookie crumbles
Ice up on my neck
so
2-50 drummer glocks
100 off the chop
Any Op
Run up getting popped
Yeah
On the block
Yamahas
2 stroke banshee
Smoking cars
Let em scream
Watch me
a drummer boy but i up that fucking stick
Need a bitch thats real thick
Damn i know i cum quick
Pay for the P well you a trick
Hell no we don't politic
and 100s
Reup with the dubs, I turn nothing into something
What you paying for that? I can beat that number
I can make the trap house beat, like a drummer
BOUNCING TO MY BEATS LIKE A DRUMMER
I NEED ME A GETAWAY
BAHAMAS OR GOLD COAST
RARI OR THE VOLVO?
I CAN’T HAVE IT ALL THO
I JUST WANT A LITTLE STACK
JUST
Gettin', his little dick sucked by the, clucks
And will he do dirt? Fool oh please
Little locs are harder then the O-G's
You fall to the ground and beg
hand
Down the Rhine, they meant to have a picnic
'Til Jones said, "I must decline
You boys have been advised by me
Stay away from Germany
What's the good
Break down
Break down
Break down (This that Cult Rap worldwide shit)
Break down
Break down
Break down, yeah
Break down
Breakin' twenties off
the night
(yours for the taking)
Joy for the little drummer boy when he got his
two sticks a snare and a kick
And a dream he'd do anythin in the world for
bottle it up watch the fiends gobble it up
If I roll up, you do what? Swallow the stuff
I don't give a fuck anymore, I'm only twenty-four years old
("Twe-twe-twenty sixteen
Twe-twe-twenty sixteen
Twe-twe-twenty sixteen
Twe-twe-twenty sixteen
Twe-twe-twenty sixteen
Twe-twe-twenty sixteen
store
Posted by the corner, posted, posted by the corner store
I'm posted at the corner store, same near every day
They get a little taste, now they
Hey why've all reg'stered, open the gate n let em out and walk em bout.
Ere we come a letter number twenty-nine, what're you gonna gimme for er
boogie
Young Drummer Boy
Listen, aye
Aye I popped two pills wit the Duce
Lil bitch drink it up like its koolaid
Hell ya I need my money by da due date
This is a day in the life
See I make big money and I fuck nigga's wives
And I only skate twenty fours
Young pimpin' still slammin' them Chevrolet
And this little drummer boy - summoned by nativity
Next thing on my list? Learn guitar and the bass
I'm giving up this bank? Na I'm just keeping the chase
fuck that
I got mad shows
I guess this is the life that God chose
Finally high, but I been low
I got vision, boy, that’s 20 20
Getting paid, but man,
get fucked up with no regard
Boy, don't test me, 'cause I'm tired of teachin lessons
So muthafuck you and that bullshit that you're stressin'
'Cause
boy!"
God had called me and then stopped by
And he told me you're gonna die
Unless you buy my holy water
Check, cash, or a money order
This is true,
occurred on the 20th day of May
And caused two little children to be sleepin' beneath the clay
These two little kids walked side by side along the state
by like "there he go"
I fit the description,
Black Tee an dickies, big glock wit me,
Real Dade County Nigga!
It's that little chico Pitbull,
to play Pokeno
You get that boy a 20 he'll turn that into a C-note
I'm known across the planet, you need that Southern fix?
I got a girl that looks like
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