Lyrics:
to the opera phantom of the opera
You don’t want no problems got the problem solver
All my niggas monsters most of them obnoxious
Pulled up on little mama like
body that I know lie
We was all getting along
Because I was just getting by
But see now I’m fly
Redbull should really sponsor this shit
I go monster
harder
Sentenced a little harsher 'cause my skin a little darker, look (talk to 'em)
We deal with all kinds of injustice
My uncle died in police custody
on
Some niggas snitching, I'm the one they tell them people on
It's Veezo, no need to talk about my life
Bitch, I'm a monster if the freaks coming out
that for a nominal fiat paper controlled by your government monopoly
Working for the money monster
Buy dumb things we tryna go farther
Subsidized cheap
pills so i gave her a xanny
She was needy put dick in her belly
Pussy so gud i couldnt forget it
Couldnt nut men i was off the henny
I can never get
column, didn't have to cook a rock
A damn goodie two-shoes, that what they call ya
Never judge a person or a book by it's covers
Just because my tone is
it's a fan base
The unfettered veteran, the eagle feathered man of medicine
That hovers above cities like weather men
And maybe weather woman
the real shooter
Lay by your house for you
Or set the bitch off for you
Or make some white chalk for me and don't talk back
I got the real shooter
color hot banana
Vanilla coat seats piper made by Tropicana
Speakers do the wop rims do the macerana
This is Taliban Dipset Rocafella
It ain't
instant
Out there
Strolling by the Seine
Taste a morning out there
Like ordinary men
Who freely walk about there
Just one day and then
I swear I'll
made a monster
Now everyday's a game of Contra, I got 99 men
An infinite amount of rounds inside this mighty fine pen
This is my dream, don't fuck
John Wayne
I came home, but Tex did not
And I can't talk about the hit he got
But I got a little limp now when I walk
And I got a little tremolo when
John Wayne
I came home, but Tex did not
And I can't talk about the hit he got
But I got a little limp now when I walk
And I got a little tremolo when
you can't show us the way
Then forgive us for being lost
I been feeling a little lost, lost
But I been finding my way, my way
On my own
And you will
to linoleum
Swipe those
Place 'em on display at the Smithsonian
Next to only gems
That were left behind
By holy men
Infectious
Charisma of those who gave
back and pull strings
Yeah yeah
Used to have that fuckin' title by name
Yeah yeah now that's nothin' but some
Fire to my flame, Yeah yeah
You ain't
little)
Bitch im an asthmatic ass-backwards thinking type of nigga
Revolutionary thoughts my pops would study malcolm little
Feeling burdened by this
we don't wait up
Elevate the elevator
Conversation with the paper
Money talks it gives me data
If it's time to serve a plate up
I don't ever wait for
now
Trying hard to ignore my pain
If you wanna talk pipe down
I don't listen to what people say
Little men wanna act all proud
Deep down we all feel
talk too much
Momma say I'ont talk enough
In the dark I'm like a torch
From the hood, I hopped the porch
I don't bang or slang on gang
But my dada
they talk fun but all in vain
Gaping at the dapper men with derby hats and canes
England swings like a pendulum do
Bobbies on bicycles, two by two
and made sure little bro was looked at
Pops got evicted, not a smack
Pumped his fists and being that I'm a ?fugiless?
The bum got done by the one
the other yes men hyping wifey see
You ain't gotta talk about me spitefully
I just might fuck her you get hype with me
You don't know what I go through
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