Lyrics:
Whoa...
You, what matter's all round here now is the truth.
Money ain't no use.
See, people walking by, so catalog your mind.
Yeah you're under my spell.
disheveled the stress levels is high
As I try to make sense of the time that whizzed by
Saw the looks dilapidate at a rapid rate
Used to be virile (?) made
Ah the blues
The ball and chain that is 'round every English musician's leg
In fact every musician's leg
Tryin' to kick it off baby?
No no.
Bullets don't give a fuck, kids get bodied
Hundred round drum on a Mini fourteen
Teenage killers at the age of fourteen
This is how we grew up, my life
a big flat top
Or racism is down, 'cause it listens to Black Thought
And they can do the round with some kids in a flash mob
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
every single state like a Greyhound
Wack ass rappers call me corny 'cause I play round
Then ask me for advice I gotta charge here's my PayPal
Epileptic
for four and dropped another hundred in it
By the time you rim it up, custom interior
Paint it up crazy clear, shine like a mirror
This right here
We broke out this afternoon
The force leading my way through to you
Roam round from room to room
There's a knock on the door
It's a scandal
Trouble
underneath the past
Lonely souls are cast across the ocean
Running 'round in circles, coming last
All of the hopes I feel
Hang by a thread
And all
Yeah, turn me up a lil' bit, overall
Yeah, ooh, ooh (no, no)
(Great John on the beat, by the way) (yeah, yeah)
First nigga play, I bet he die
Please don't leave
Old Saint Nick
Too much milk and cookies
'Cause by the time
He gets round to us
He won't be able to get
His fat ass down
I'm looking to be by a window
That looks out on the sea
Anybody here know
Where such a place is?
Surf of golden sunlight
Breaking over me
new cadillac
Oh you were the queen of my nights
Now I'm stuck here writing by candlelight
And me, now I can see
That you'd rather be riding 'round
have to be so sad
Just call on me when it all starts pouring ‘round
We can live on the street
We’ll beg for their love
And if they leave us hungry
on you, laying down
Bitch you gon' try who? Your stupid dumbass gon' die soon
We finna slide thru, stepping on whoever by you
They won't know who shot
So much has happened, think of what we've done
In the time that the Earth has traveled 'round the Sun
Winter, Spring, Summer and we're back to Fall
I only love my bed and my mama, I'm sorry
That's facts
What's up, Michelle? Miss Michelle
That's what they call you 'round the way, right? Uh
once, but I need a round two
I got a chain that could hang from your neck
And your last nigga heard you used him for a check, oh
Brand new whip, put
nothing
But inside I've got all of these problems
People make 'em happen
By spreading rumours and bullshit
And that's why I got 'em
If I share all
float around
You're outta my mind by the crack of dawn
Ya levitate and radiate in every single way
And it's been...
The bar room stools
Stairwell
you your all that matters but
I can tell you don't fall in love much
I Don't want you to push away
By the stupid shit that I do and say
And my life
holes in his clothes that expose his skin
Sick with pneumonia he's old and slim
Hoping when somebody walks by and sees him freezin'
That they throw him
there's infection, so wear some protection
Ain't nobody slicker than be -Dub on the mixer
Don't bring your girlfriend 'round because he's down to get with
Where do all the hippest meet? (South Street, South Street)
Where the dancin' is elite (South Street, South Street)
Side by side we're loose
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