Lyrics:
Step up in the place and I'm living right
Even though I have a few things I gotta get tight
Jesus knows my heart and you probably knew the old me
on the receiving end
Never growing up like Mr pan
Bumpin old school like the shows on TV Land
I’m warmin up but I don’t need a fan
You ain't down with Rasta? My gosh
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
And ironically, when you do it that way
More people end up saved
I paved my way by scrapin' it
You ain't never seen a nigga
Like me, if you did
I guarantee they was
I'd get back to Boise or I'd go to hell
But I wouldn't give up on being his dad
I was so goddamned glad to be the father I never had
Soon as I got back
the saline grains
I told him, apparently in my default radio announcer voice, that I Never added seasoning
To food until I had tasted it, my reasoning being
up, " Nicki says
Standing up to count the votes
No one moves "All in favor of ‘All Eyes on
You'?" She is persuasive
Making hip-hop work in the pop world
confession obsession
As you know the secret power start to show
And grow and grow and grow and grow
Up up, away we go
So turn up your radio
Up, up, away we go
would listen to the radio and be able to play the songs by ear. And I remember saying to my dad when I was about six or seven years old, and I think I was
the best
Therefore, hard to tell
You dropped me off by the dungeon
Never came in, but I knew that you were wondering
Now are these niggas in this house
And a couple knots in her chest
Nobody appreciates that you've been trying your best
I can show you how to give up and just hang from your neck
Your
of speech having to edit that out?
Wasn't till I tried to come up, saw they holding us down
America ain't give us nothing but a grocery isle
Left home, left
We'll never give up the fight
Cause we got time time time time
I didn't wanna go
So far from home
But it was time you know
Children got to roam
But now I
Hamburger Helper
Nigga you want to take us like desert sketch, I leave you scared
Nigga I got a partna by the name of Chris, that's Redd
People say I got
traffic, twelve pull up on me, you know that I'm mashin'
Checks still cashing, it's such a habit, bag keep appearing like magic
Apply this pressure, it take
and never saw a tick
None like me, in whatever sport, it is
Tryna sign me, give me effort for a hit
Maverick Seizure doing edits on the pic
Going stupid,
block to a terror scene
Shit you ain't never seen
Twenty millimeter tank rounds eatin up everything
Nowhere to run, hide, or back down
I put my mack down,
the end my friend, you build this cage by your own
It's up to you, to take the key and set yourself free
I will give you my hand,
I pull you out of the mud
stuff up, y'all feel good?
Yo, what the hell y'all wanna do, Syndicate, tonight, what you wanna do?
(Party!)
Randy Mac in the place to be, what you
"Ah", only a ruthless bastard would do this
Take a toothles bitch with no tastebuds to Ruth's Chris
Give her toothpicks, stop on the way home, pick up
(How?)
Don't put no new music out, we don't wanna hear that shit
You a coon and you fucked up Teyana Taylor's shit (Fuck boy)
Bill Cosby locked up with
And that's why your sitting there by the telephone
And you know that she ain't going to call you!
So you put on the TV and you're watching Johnny Carson
Two steps forward but four steps back
The game gets better if you're tripping sack
We're all friends and we never get lonely
But when it comes
imma make these words back bend so eh...
You may wanna stretch a bit
Because this yoga flame I spit is sure to get me sued by a few capcom executives
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