Lyrics:
a door
Kitchen on burn, pigeon on perm
Three different digies all lit up like a fur
Nigga where your fee, see the white right here
It's a Meddellin
Mariana Trench
And thinkin', holdin' my breath, until I feel 3-2 like Wretch
Until my last bastard breath
I'ma cut man down on a barberous flex
Who
or three or four
The man who strums the old guitar
Is standing by the door
The banjo and the mandolin
Have joined the phantom band
A woman, once from Carrick
out to L.A.
And I rented me a palace down by the sea
A small town boy to a California king
I rolled up in my limousine
Paparazzi on the scene
I'm
And as a special treat this evening
I have asked America's foremost young poet
To read his latest poem for us
"Ladies and gentlemen"
but you not worthy of me saying it out!
YEA!
My Darling
Your Phone!
Cannot Ring
No more by Me
Unless its a song written by
Me...
(Unles it's a song
to the door
Close your eyes, count to ten
It'll all be over then
Let the Prophets do the work
Down low, shake it, twerk
Up on this track with Bogdan
we needed him for
And the priests and the shieks and the czars and the rabbis
Smile bright while we close the door
But Jesus wasn't a chrisitan,
legends, the kings with the, crown
They try to slam the door but we kick it, down
Likwit town, L.A. California where Tha Liks get, down
L.A. California where
like my riches
A yo, I'm Murphey Lee the school boy
The civilized jewel boy
I got not one, two, three, four, five, but six whores
For equality, Vokal,
I slid by the restroom
And all I heard was zoom-zoom-zoom
I see you peekin', but you ain't speakin'
Put your drink down, think now, stop tweekin'
I slid by the restroom
And all I heard was zoom-zoom-zoom
I see you peekin', but you ain't speakin'
Put your drink down, think now, stop tweekin'
Man that habibi shit
It's that's hot shit man
Three ninety five lunch special at the Hunan express
We the merge lane I let them all pass
(After you)
wonder
Put that knife in ya, take a little bit of life from ya
Am I frightening ya? Shall I continue?
I put the gun to ya, I let it sing you a song
I
wonder
Put that knife in ya, take a little bit of life from ya
Am I frightening ya? Shall I continue?
I put the gun to ya, I let it sing you a song
I
of this ho (huh)
My Rollie got Skittles, you taste the rainbow (Skittles)
Kick down the door, lay 'em down, Kurtis Blow (on God)
Droppin' the load in
in row 3.
He spits, he drools, he points his finger at my face.
This lad obviously possesses the aggressive trapped energy which puts your fist
Diagnosed autistic, knew there was something different
Tried everything in power to try to make a difference
Got around the age of 3, worried that you'd never
My guns are bigger than a baby's arm
With Agent Orange like I was raised in ‘Nam
The bullets stay inside your brain
Like it's your favorite song
I
Elite beatboxer minus the raps
Rollin' with at least three choppers, Ryan is that
I literally keep three shottas
I'm lyrically James Todd, Tariq
pass by
You identified the flowers on the road
I rolled the windows down and shut off the radio
Did you ever think you'd end up here
All those late
Black rapper with a conscience I'll be out by half past
27 coming sooner than you think, 5 years till I'm a tree in Bedfast
Loving memory of the boy,
wanna get it on this?
Yes whatever man
I think I got something special for you two
Let me introduce you
Cause Cudi and I we go all over the place
We, We
down in a tear-stained letter
Well my head was beating like a song by the Clash
It was writing checks that my body couldn't cash
Got to my kneest, I was
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