Lyrics:
the truth
Pray they wont kill me I feel like Dr. Sebi
They proclaim to be demons,
I'm something like a reverend
I'm Grabbin A Gun like Lil Kee
Open up
bitches after every show
Cause I'm a hoe you know I'm a hoe
How do you know because I told ya so
[Master P]
If it don't make dollars then it don't
bitches after every show
Cause I'm a hoe you know I'm a hoe
How do you know because I told ya so
[Master P]
If it don't make dollars then it don't
the heat Dwayne
I might jus rock my Gucci shades
The sun getting closer everyday
I’m cultured up, I got my braids
P**sy nigga don’t hate, jus go get paid
I
I've seen the opps fly up like Malaika
Don't chat to me if you've got no figure
No P's no peace you know wagwan my Jigga
I told bro don't slide in
the sport
Coats of the season
And surrounded by his whole Odd Future crew
The ascendant singer opens up to
Amy Wallace about his crazy
Year including the bomb
Bring the light to the dark a-O T-P, yeah!
I Self, Lord and Master, I'm not a rapper
The industry been in a nigga pockets
Since Napster
So me
like CB (bling)
Yeah, I be that young John Doe, right by the front door
Benny Blanco part two you (bump 'em, Dino saw you)
I'ma run to the bank, Usain
Does Anybody Love Me?
(Written by John Redmon)
Performed by Theresa Morton
Does anybody out there love me
Then won't you stand up and tell me
so they could tell what he had done
R.I.P. to Alpo, cause he left the world with a son
Focus up you got to have your racks stacked, plus the bonds
Two
up, they P'd off
Jammed dick all in his bitch, with the condom stuck when it slid off (ha ha)
Then it slid off, then it spin back, Uptown niggas did
nothing (That's right)
We ain't dumping
We just bumpin' and bangin'
Like it ain't nothing wrong
Get ya club on
Homeboys show me love up in
entertained by
Not just the voice or the band
But by the outfit as well
Modeliste: You're also the face of the fall
Winter 2017 John Varvatos campaign how did
to show up and leave, no one succeeds
So he moves with his peers, different blocks, different years
Sitting on, different benches like it's musical chairs
I'ma show up
You know that I be coming smooth wit it (smooth wit it)
Bout the money so the tool wit it (tool wit it)
I'm by my lonely solitude with it
fishin rod
No stars, we're supergod non recouperb-alls (yo)
Buttons is pressed to remove the press
Press a bullshit, my index press a full clip (YO)
Set up
a bullshit, my index press a full clip (YO)
Set up cones when I'm firing chrom
I hittin ladies to old men in retirement homes
Dail 9-1-1 runnin gun in
What up John (testing one, two, three)
What up Kon (hey convict music)
Let's go (can you believe it)
Fresh white tee, fresh car walls,
Our houses are protected by the good Lord and a gun
And you might meet 'em both if you show up here not welcome, son
Our necks are burnt, our roads
nothing (That's right)
We ain't dumping
We just bumpin' and bangin'
Like it ain't nothing wrong
Get ya club on
Homeboys show me love up in
bitches after every show
Cause I'm a hoe you know I'm a hoe
How do you know because I told ya so
[Master P]
If it don't make dollars then it don't
bitches after every show
Cause I'm a hoe you know I'm a hoe
How do you know because I told ya so
[Master P]
If it don't make dollars then it don't
up at the fancy hotel with Mose
By (Uh)
I like weirder beats (Uh)
I won't broke my bones
Shoot Style on my feet (Uh)
I'm busted O.P
Kraven won't be
right out of those woods
Old Dillon had a million tales but he sung me one refrain
And I recall that song by John Dillon James
One July Monday morning
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