Lyrics:
the club
We throwed them hunnids not no ones
Throwing them hunnids we fuck them
Whole by the firm
Step in the club
Pocket full of hundred, no ones
Choppa
to
Well, you can sure get lost in the Louisiana bayou
About forty-five minutes southeast of Thibodaux, Louisiana
Lived a cat called Doc Millsap and his
to
Well, you can sure get lost in the Louisiana bayou
About forty-five minutes southeast of Thibodaux, Louisiana
Lived a cat called Doc Millsap and his
, five guys
Slide by
Better think twice if you try to undermine
My precision free the guys in the prison
They don't wanna see a nigga livin' happy
So we
scrubbing of face and ears....all work done by hand.
And for the frequent dustin' of a small boy's pants
To try to make sure that you led a spotless life.
'em in rubber bands when we count 'em up
Money, money, money, that's all niggas know
Posin' with your bitch, I do it all for show
One five told me
steps ahead, boy, I really fooled ya
She say, why you lost your mind?
Money on my mind, I ain't lost it
Don't you want fine dine?
Murder man
Consumed by
melt
Bust down your wrist in the summer there's ice on your heart I'm a let that shit melt, let's Go
Lost boy I don't really need no sleep
Lost boy I
Fleeting like the summer days by design
Men becoming choir boys
I feel lost, I feel numb
Stare until I go blind into a digital sun
I feel lost, I feel numb
emotions placed upon different parts and players
Each week he waited for the next free CD
To put on his headphones and get lost completely
So he saved all
to the grave
Got the ganja inna wood
Its a three five straight to the face
If they police get behind
While we to hot might do the race
In a hot car
By any
bargain with the mirror
You can't ever fight the hands off
Time flies by like the 4th of July sky
When the morning sun high fives the moon
It don't
his time
Line by line I create
Then I shine like I'm Drake
But the 6 is the 605 all them days
I'm the guy I'm the guy
Make 'em wait for them summer
at least!
I played myself, for radio play
I never dance, but the skill it self, is a second chance (yeah)
I'm back wit two's by me, start the beef
I'm
that weed out of my pouch i gotta dig deep
Cause when i make my rounds up on my block i gotta dig deep
Cause when i kick it with the boys i keep it
I grew up on the edge of a cornfield at the end of a long dirt road
Carolina plow boy, ain't had a free summer since I was ten years old
Mama made us
trippin' guns get to blasting (buh)
Send a fuck nigga home packing (buh, buh, buh)
What it ball like dream packing (nah)
Let off five, one second (bang)
have to say goodbye
I got sixty five stitches, is this how you treat my miss
You ant washing the dishes
There are no plates to the tables, the plates
rag drop, and the west had it locked
Everybody doing 'em, I'm still scratchin on the block
Like "damn, I'ma be a failure"
Surrounded by thugs, drugs,
believe in
Money lost is money found
Kind of sounds ignorant
But that's the way it went down the following evening
38 Pts and 5 rebounds
High of the season
coals, the v is speeding off road
I'm just trying to find myself, I lost me
The money ain't thang but the time is costly
Rewind and pause me
Let's keep it
Well, the summer day make a white man lazy
Well, all I've ever known is poor
Owe my skin to the country store
Throw my walls, my roof, my door
But
Heat check for the summer
Foreign on a lease Imma whippit like Gunna
Throwback kickin' by the pool till the sun up
Shots of the Dusse sitting in my
V1:
Another two-seam fast ball blows on by
Flyin’real fast, 91 miles
Billy’s throwin’ heat in the summer sun
There’s two outs now, this inning ain’t
.jpg/300px-30_Seconds_to_Mars,_Anfiteatro_Camerini_(2).jpg "Thirty Seconds to Mars")
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