Lyrics:
to the e-way
Or drive to Eastlake park by way of first avenue
Keep straight or go right
I chose to go straight
Go down by the lake
No traffic in sight
No cars
tell 'em come and try
Nigga if they doubt that (Riverdale)
Devil daisy hats, chaimy chi, pop that
(Squad)
Thuggin' like the '96 Pac back (Squad)
Ain't no
with drugs to Miami
And I hit the freeway but i am not Ricky I rather be silent fa 20 like Sammy
And I put the money first but you everything I do it
everything cool
But I know people that died in that pool
I know people that died in them schools
Now what is the survivor to do?
Got to no trailer, you gotta
my paddi if you think am great
Rap my shit and I go sing like drake
Chop bellefull I no dey lose my weight
Sleep past four and I resume by eight
Say na
the Lamby
Stop by Sammy, chill in the hood, you good, you family
My boys like to pull them blammies, and big pimp
Mami suck dick 'til she pull your hammy,
screaming in my ear and I'm just falling back
Trying not to treat all of my problems like a laundromat
How come I don't get no sleep sober
Even 'fore
Seeking a better path, expose a better half of me
Blast for me, the task after me
For a few years sheddin tattooed tears
Like Gram' Sammy, we feudin for
Johnson originally proposed an outright ban covering discrimination
by everyone for every type of housing but it had no chance from the start
to you
You said you'd never leave
So I'm coming back to you
Started my mornin' fresh, I'm livin' with no regrets
Looking forward to all the things that
Gram' Sammy, we feudin' for the whole damn family
We scarred up, homies is barred up for mad time
Outlawz locked down for some past crimes
Fast dimes
Gram' Sammy, we feudin' for the whole damn family
We scarred up, homies is barred up for mad time
Outlawz locked down for some past crimes
Fast dimes
rap like I'm swingin' an axe around
This is a mic shut down
Notify the President that I'm
Bombin' your residence
And I'm leavin' no evidence
Voice box
[Intro]
Unusual suspect (unusual suspect)
But I know these niggas (but I know these niggas).
Jim Johnson, Big D (Jim Johnson and Big D).
Ah dis
to the south, to the east, to the west (throw your hands up)
Black Jack Johnson, it's no contest (throw your hands up)
And show it to 'em like
They say there’s no sleep for the wicked,
But my president’s as sleep,
Jimoh was killed this weekend,
And our futures looking bleak,
And they
think before You blink
White minks when we link I bite beef with my teeth, piece by piece
No rest, no sleep, just Ms, just cheese
Flow five hundred
all week!
Come by when I see you this weekend
Are we gonna eat?
So then Yesenia walks in the room
(Aha)
She smells sex and cheap perfume
(Oh no
you stand by your king, yeah, that Coretta shit (ayy)
In the world with no one to trust, know you can trust me (trust me)
Just know that I'm stay
I'm motherfucking chicken-shit
To the ones that's tryna play the E
By the time you get to seven, you'll be six feet deep
Number Eight: Make no
Morning
Written by: Nicholas Benjamin Howell, Jordan Peterson, Johnathan Johnson
I know you’re probably gonna hate me in the morning
Even though I
of them just thought
That they were right, but each was wrong
I decided I would help 'em out
And that they need a song
Written by an outsider with no
Dog in
to the south, to the east, to the west (throw your hands up)
Black Jack Johnson, it's no contest (throw your hands up)
And show it to 'em like
I'm motherfucking chicken-shit
To the ones that's tryna play the E
By the time you get to seven, you'll be six feet deep
Number Eight: Make no
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