Lyrics:
by George ?Papa Doc? Bush. Music by the ?Village People? the very military "Macho Man."
?Company!!!?
?Macho, macho man!?
? Two-three-four.?
?
the DVD, smoking illegal weed
Getting high as two kites when we needed to breathe
We used each other's air just for the people to see
And stayed up all night
Listen up good and listen up close
This the type of story have yo mind feel blown
One day on a Sunday, lord say, that a young man by the name Georgie
on the pavement, your nose stayin' broke
Shut yo' ass up, kick rocks
Everybody going along, you get blocked
Tyin' up yo neck in a noose, a big knot
I'm hopin' by
rifles
And Das EFX' mask
Red moccasins, Emerald City is my metropolis
I dust rappers
I don't give a fuck what the topic is
You can never win, you're not
to make a living trying to sell my hurt
What's up, how are you?
Give up
Better ask somebody
We're meeting at forager
I'm doing really good
I'm doing really
scared
Never been a type to bite my words
When I came up ya'll gave me shit
Now I'm finna make ya'll eat them terds
Always said what the fuck I felt
Gon'
the vision very clearly
The hate they give to me man I never let it render me
They cutting off my airway circulation with they knee
Just to realize I can't
sports or anything really i
Felt neglected by my family
Growing up as well i've had
Many ideas that always felt
Superior compared to others, I
Knew that my
cappuccino
Pussy rappers so high, high heels
I see things a little different, Tarantino
Mr mac, shit, something you have missed
Y'all are stunned by the double
Niggas come through
I got them bitches on the CD
They gon' watch me like we on the DVD
I don't give a fuck man, you see me on the TV
And I'm all up in
on a true story but your soul is fiction
How you in the kitchen whipping up the biscuits
When u and your team looking corny benson
350z top down headed
Rather bust 'em
Up out goes his hand and I cough
He once stole from me
Yeah I want to cut it off
The black thing is a ride I call the nighttrain
It
(nah)
Running through ink like I'm tattooing (yeah)
This is music to be murdered by, you love
Turn the volume up, I am fired up like a blunt
Bread is
(nah)
Running through ink like I'm tattooing (yeah)
This is music to be murdered by, you love
Turn the volume up, I am fired up like a blunt
Bread is
I got my foot on they neck like George Floyd
I don't give a fuck bout your boy
You talking bout 3li? That nigga that boy
I'm the one that's making
Complaining or soaking it up,
Praying for rain the next minute for a scorched earth what's it worth,
Enough is never enough, let's have a little moan
Put
me, y'all know I don't give a fuck
I'm cool with not bein' cool with niggas, so listen up
Bobby Shmurda came home Quavo picked him up in a jet
and my nigga GP
Niggas come through
I got them bitches on the CD
They gon' watch me like we on the DVD
I don't give a fuck man, you see me on the TV
time you out the hood
That's good now stay on the grind
Some days, I'm in the crowd all by myself
Bunch of niggas around I'm still by myself
These days
Chrislam (Chea!)
That's not a thing so I place this John
In your chicks palm
Give her something beautiful to kiss on
'Till I spit one to her lip balm
Well I remember every little thing
As if it happened only yesterday
Parking by the lake and there was not another car in sight
And I never had
Well I remember every little thing
As if it happened only yesterday
Parking by the lake and there was not another car in sight
And I never had
scared
Never been a type to bite my words
When I came up ya'll gave me shit
Now I'm finna make ya'll eat them terds
Always said what the fuck I felt
Gon'
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