Lyrics:
pots to piss in
Can tell there's something missing
Miss them with that oopsy daisy
Some of them raised with Smith&s
If you prey you levitating
Is it
Megatron
Understand I'm past hip-hop
I should be put into tiny ziplocks
Distributed by those who flip rocks
Leak use after word Smith be
So dope you
Smith and Wessun
Like Megatron
Understand I'm past hip-hop
I should be put into tiny ziplocks
Distributed by those who flip rocks
Leak use after word
My fleet goals, by da creep cold
We blaze, y'all won't see those, you just feel 'em
We raise the states in this game, like helium
The new
bitches
Who be lookin like some angels but they really so wicked
They be handin you an apple, you ain't thinkin you just bit it
But she got it from
on in your parents' bedrooms
Sometimes I wanna get on TV and just let loose
But can't, but it's cool for Tom Green to hump a dead moose
"My bum is
on in your parents' bedrooms
Sometimes I wanna get on TV and just let loose
But can't, but it's cool for Tom Green to hump a dead moose
"My bum is
on the land and the sky
You sing for your friends and your family
I'll walk green pastures by and by
And I've still got my eyes on the land and the sky
You sing for your friends and your family
I'll walk green pastures by and by
mean
Their fingers and lips are
Just stinking of green always lean
Now they wanna hate on showerman
Rudeboy, you see the hype on
These MCs are getting
the pork
And strengthen up slowly by eating all you greens
Five a day and the kush I got is strawberry
Smoking tropical trees not dealing with no autumn
York, New York, the city that never sleeps
Bodies, covered in white sheets, are layin in the streets
Shit gets deep, as we creep up the block by the kids
Bright pink top, your silver beaded headdress
Fluorescent apple on your chest
Pull up the curtains, and pick up the stacks of chairs
Nailing their
with us sometime
I know you love that sweet little gal of mine
You and her could talk about babies
Make some home made apple pie
While me and dad could
goin' on in your parents' bedrooms
Sometimes I wanna get on TV and just let loose
But can't, but it's cool for Tom Green to hump a dead moose
"My bum
Butterfingers, 'cause I dippedy-drop um, 'nough styles
Iggedy eeny meeny miney moe
Shiggedy-bop, bap I'll snatch a rapper by his toe
Yo, I riggedy-write my
a belly full of cars...
All for something lacy
Some girl's going to see that dress
And crave that day like crazy
Little Indian kids on a bridge up in
Butterfingers, 'cause I dippedy-drop um, 'nough styles
Iggedy eeny meeny miney moe
Shiggedy-bop, bap I'll snatch a rapper by his toe
Yo, I riggedy-write my
saw make your head start wrigglin
Three rip cripplin stoney senior citizens
I live by the bud
I take my clones everywhere I go because I'm paranoid
melanin
Question yo complexion who you better than
Dealt uneven hands we at odds
Since apple jacks and snapchat vision been this broad
Not allowed to race
a million from the claims to left and right?
Now aren't things like that enough to drive a man to booze?
But Hard-Luck Smith was hoodoo-proof--he knew
second one on the way
Garcia y Vega split up, kill the guts in the breeze
This is our backyard all grass and no seeds
Our own little place to escape
services as a bodyguard,
For protectin' me from the terrors of thunderstorms and nightmares
Hah, And too many green apples.
And Lord knows, I.O.U. for
anytime that I lace mine,
Light up the stage for the homies we make shine
Sick the dogs on you, get more by the K-9!
Homies on the yard never walk in
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