Lyrics:
the button on the drop then recline (chop-chop)
From domestic to a form see the rims don't stop
? In the screens glow when the trunk pop
From Bentley's
I got five four six seven billions in my bank account
Shut the f**k stop the cap I don't play around
Simple Lamborghini Gucci you can write it down
stop callin me
Leave me alone if you ain't talkin G's
If your name ain't on a damn caller ID (caller ID)
Uh, you ain't even much, really fittin to talk
Crocker
Niggas say that they gon' rob me bitch don't make me stop you
Uncle Speedy, B.M.F., he died don't let it drive you
Hit G Weed on the cellphone
Move out the way, shorty on her way, grab her by the waist
Haven't slept in a couple days I can't feel my face
Drinking Henny by the bottle let it
Smoking weed, true indeed
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Ain't nobody busting like the nigga with a gun up in the middle
Say Mel and T Mayne
I'm a make a nigga feel on this
Top and bottom never walk in my neighborhood
(South baton rouge)
The candy lady out of business
was the last time
That time Casey was layin' up in the South Memphis yard waitin' for train time
Mrs. Casey was havin' a bad time Mrs Casey was havin'
and do your best
For the people in the north, south, east and west
Like you can't judge a book by it's cover
If you listen, you will learn from a jungle
came from the south
I ended up east
I land by the lake
And I’ll drink what I want
The morning mist
Shards of my teeth
And can you please
Stop your
confused with you
And we'll stop along the way
At every single block
The memories we've made
Will never soon be forgot
'Cause we'll be walking side by side
Help I have done it again
East coast what up (what up), Dirty South what up (what up)
Yea i said its my time
And from the start knew I was born
And they smoking dro
Saying papi don't stop
We headed south to Ibiza
They smoking that wiz Khalifa
It's a celebration
Ain't nobody hatin
I see ya
b**w
And they smoking dro
Saying papi don't stop
We headed south to Ibiza
They smoking that wiz Khalifa
It's a celebration
Ain't nobody hatin
I
cheated f*ck the record if you must stop
When you're on top of me
Was the only time I hotspot
You gat me on my heartbreak swag
Thinking wishing drinking
that duffel
Imma pass
Russell
Not no dummy
On f
I’m gassing
Gotta go get you know I ain’t laxing
Got it for the low but I’m still taxing
Lemme slow
Either you know or not
Edgemont
Til the killin stop
South end homie
Homie
Til the dealin stop
Park side
State
If it's real or not
Used to hang in LaSalle
the crickets won't stop
(I'm 'bout to)
Mute you like
I'm dropping out
Things is going south
I can't hear you now
I power down
All my windows
But I'm still
some changes you wouldn't believe
Don't focus on that
Time that I slipped thru the cracks
Headed to the south
I ain't need a map
These girls like motown
mama moanin
Juras try to stop me cause the kaos that I'm forming
F on my hat so you know what I'm about
Motherfuckers tryna play me homie keep runnin'
(C.W. McCall, Bill Fries, Chip Davis)
Now Arnold Jones an' MaryBeth Jensen's in a 'Vette down by the Deep Rock
Had John Denver on the 8-track,
(bitch)
Bitch ass (stupid girl), you es too nasty (ahahah) for the FSK, man (shit crazy, man)
You es too groupie for the (shit crazy), for the, f
nigga I ain't ask that
Down south ain't home you need to bring that ass back
Doing big things just by the word of mouth
Well them niggas don't know you
It's All We Have
Poem by Stavros (aka: Poet 168)
Reading T.S. Elliot
After two books of
Bukowski is like getting hit
In the dick by a midget
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