Lyrics:
alive, now how you living? What? (yeah yeah)
It's all good, it's all good the way we ran with it though
'98, black champion flow, swear to God (uh, yeah)
She wants shots
Lemon drops
Red headed sluts
Keep em coming don't stop
Till we drop dead Fred
Pass out in bed
And by bed, I mean anywhere you fall
things that
Don't even matter
Like which side are
You standing on, yeah
But I'd rather be left out
Right where Fred stood to shout
Then join in with
at the pole now she's asking to go
She's feeling the kid
In some jeans with the rips
Whip 3 into 6 anytime that I'm feeling the mix
Give my young guns
rock on bro
Right on, man
Right on
Sup, Fred? It's Rob
I'm just trying to catch up with you
I be doing the X Games and shit
I'm just lettin' you,
a Gucci queen
With gold all over that flowed like a stream
I met her in a club on a Saturday night
The girl's jeans were tight and I got hype
I thought
the muthafuckin bread
Suit up in red, hop in a Chevrolet, then we gone turn this bitch into a sled
And I'm with Fred, he with the set, he down to make a nigga break
To blow us both away
Two wandering faces in this masquerade - New Years Eve!
Mutual acquaintance with a plotted smile - said "I'll catch you in a little
to see you
Is violence
But you can't
Fight Violence
With violence
Fight fire with water
Fred Hampton-ly
I speak life
Into your soul so
Remember me
the sheets on his body
Fred wanted to do right, died with a TWIC card in his pocket
Yes, I'm depressed, I'm feelin' down, so don't even ask
Want to see Slim
Wommer!
ARTHUR: Go and tell your master that we have been charged by God
with a sacred quest. If he will give us food and shelter for
the night he can
right by a can
His girl lockin lips with another man
Jesse broke stupid, and pulled out a tool
And started lickin off like a crazy fool
The brother went
Yeah, yeah real Rx
Yeah
Glock cocked with one in the head
My bitch said
"Why you got a gun in the bed?"
Backwood stuffed with a nigga who dead
I love you back
Could be worse, huh? Look where you are!
Reading the calendar today it said Park City
We thought we were going to like a dive bar
caught her in a club kissin some guy Fred
Stormed up right behind her, grabbed her and I said
";Yo Daliah! What's up, baby?
Come on, you got to be crazy
flesh and smell like human fecal pies
Everybody shit's themselves after they die
(That's right)
Is a torture that's death by design
My consists of duct
the boat- then they came with christanity we got provoked- our living habits eating habits it got so gross- high blood pressure strokes- smart black man is
shit!
Yeah! We laugh, this is TBM radio
You're rocking out with your boy
I got some boys on deck and this boy
He go by the name Fred The Godson!
lotta bullets in his head
In his head
Wit' a whole lotta bullets in his head
In his head
It was New Year's Eve
I was kickin' it wit' Gangsta
Fred, outta
a stop by the barber; you can hit the shops in the harbor
Then get the chops or the lobster
Prime on twelve, dinner for dos
We begin with a toast, end
filed, makeup made
We can shock South Beach, shake up Dade
In a drop top Phantom with the Drakov blades
I'm a stop by the barber, you can hit the shops
on that thing
With 20's like Ginobli
G-5 sitting on the runway
Just to go to LIV on a Sunday
I spend it make it right back on a Monday
All my niggas rolling
on that thing
With 20's like Ginobli
G-5 sitting on the runway
Just to go to LIV on a Sunday
I spend it make it right back on a Monday
All my niggas rolling
build it mane
DMT, Rob No, J9, Fred Man
Yours truly mane
Different styles, by the pound, hand down, really is
A thing of beauty mane
Late night, shit
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