Lyrics:
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin' laid tonight
Swisha rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin' laid tonight
Swisha rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit
sitting by your side.
Finally I unlock it,
The wire coloured red,
The one that I must cut to,
To put this piece to bed,
And now this strange dilemma,
doesn't mean that you need
Force-fed and misled, now we hang by a thread
Force-fed and misled, but not me, I see red
You need to hear this
Measure
that you need.
Force fed and misled. Now we hang by a thread.
Force fed and misled. But not me, I see red.
You need to hear this.
Measure my worth by
fish
Black sand deserts grow blood red cactus
Dust devils twist human bodies in half
Black sands down the hourglass that's our ass
This ain't the past
to the floor
His trick is you and me, boy
Time - In Quaaludes and red wine
Demanding Billy Dolls
And other friends of mine
Take your time
The sniper in
still
All of a sudden in a wink of an eye
A Cadillac sedan passed us by
I said, "Boys, that's a mark for me!"
By then the taillight was all you
With a picture by Sam a painting by John
And a bonnie black hoss to lead you along
Lucky green wagon you were raggedy brown
Now there is red
Cryin', ain't goin' down this big road by myself
Now don't you hear me talkin', pretty mama?
Lord, ain't goin' down this big road by myself
If I
obstables
But, only to make matters worse
Plus I'm getting pimped by this temp lady Jackie
From Optima staffing figure laughing
Shut up clown don't talk
What else?
Anything Else?
Mary! Mary!
Mary! Mary! Mary!
Saw Red!
Mary!
Slow Ride!
Fuck!
You don't even realize
How long it's been sinse
I played
your ass to church
And can't no pastor stop no headshot
Out the window with that red-dot, shooter sped off
Knocked all that bitch head off
I'm
one time
Keep on them red bottom Louboutin's
Play with that pussy on the 101
I light the streets where you are
I got a bad bitch that's 21
I make
the terms chicks are like cars,
Well I treat bitches like drinks,
When I step in the club and by out tha bar,
So let me quench my thirst wit you
the wolf in me,
And all my soul was fire,
By the cold, dull moon,
Blood, red, desire,
It was the wolf in me,
I howled the cold night through,
The year
I don't care, Sermon, ayo, Talib Kweli
Come on, Whip, Def Squad, uh, yeah
Brooklyn, Long Island, uh-huh, Red Hook, what?
Hah, Chilltown, let's go,
the red one, that she got the blue
But the way I chew on you, you should of got me two
Now you got me in the kitchen, with your fryin' on
Tell me that
the herb
Red-eyed flight, and I'm lookin for my red-eyed homie
Black tone, 'cause I said I might
Just hafta pass through, and let 'em hear some shit that's
By day
He's a grease monkey it's true
A slave
Fix your transmission like new
Change oil
Rotate your tires of course
He toils
Under the Flying Red
Can't no nigga play me
Up a nigga like some rabies
Got the whole hood like, "Flock crazy"
I'll paint your whole town red, make your little brother
ridin at nighters in two red Vipers
{B.G.}
they gonna expect two snipers splittin heads like this
puttin they clique in a blender bustin gats
on a big red apple as we jog along the road||roving all over the land|roving all over the land||you'll find me by the river|where the lively otter plays|or
we got your attention by now, right?
(Holiday Season)
Nicki Minaj, DJ Holiday (Holiday Season, nigga)
Mister Entertainment
Shouts out Trapaholics
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