Lyrics:
You know I'm proud to be black y'all
And that's a fact y'all
And if you try to take what's mine
I take it back y'all - it's like that
said, "How many?"
He said, "It looks like fourteen, or something"
I told Kevin, from that point on
My band discussed it for maybe 20 minutes
Donny
to bind us all
Bind us together like a platinum truss
Giving it over, giving it over
I'm putting my heart into treasures that don't rust
I'm giving it
the other shit that's goin' in my brain
My brother got out of jail, I only know him by name
He did a nickel and a dime in time, probably be stayin' with my
by him
Rest in peace to Virgina Tech
Too many innocent kids dying
Well let's just blame hip hop
And act like that's the big problem
Now I would give
sending troops to Iraq,
I figured that we must like danger,
Little kids don't learn in school
they go to school to go spray a gun,
If you a parent, then be
Twenty years later George gets a little bored.
He trades in the booze, says that Jesus is his Lord.
He said, "Now the White House is the place I wanna'
youngins do is rhyme like they inebriated
I'm hated but yeah, that's how you know I made it
I'm one of the illest, I'm one of the realest, I'm ready
killed his dad and that was patricide
One night I stabbed him by my mattress-side
To keep my love alive
To keep my love alive
To keep my love alive
down to the last drink
Hang on let me slam the door, mate
Just pause that thought for a bit
Why did I have to go and do a stupid thing like that
like it's that time of the month
Are you bleeding? Can't think about sex?
Irritated by your Kotex?
We don't need to kiss, we don't have to fuck
I
a prodigy they made me
I wear chains like my granddad did in slavery
You're about as black as Ainsley that's bounty
Appropriate the culture before they
coupe, nigga I ain't set trippin' (no!)
This space coupe, I drop the plug off like he George Jetson (It's Gucci!)
Plug walk (plug walk, plug, plug,
an early retirement
And that's gon involve your mama crying
Nigga I don't wanna talk
It's a little too late
You a clout chasing nigga like
You said it in
his way of doing a thing
Now we should attempt to do a tune that is very popular
It was written by one of the great young songwriters of today
Now I
'bout the finer things in life
like some late night horseback ridin',
sippin' some southern homemade wine.
If a little two steppin', star gazin',
suspect
You ass like prime roastin, Calvin Klein clothes
Explode the pyros when Doc guest appear
I'm out there, I bought it with George Jetson here
Your
have niggas in beef
Dat slick talk followed by some stick talk then sleep
Pissed off, I done took my fifth loss this week
Big dog, I can scratch that
Young mothers (that's right)
I feel ya (hey)
I know how it is
Mama's just a little girl
Don't nobody understand
I feel ya
She was born
Hahaha, nuttin', nah that's not what it is
Nah, nahhh, that's not what it is
That, what? No no, nah nah
The thing about it was this fucking
George is
Two (come on)
You cannot pick my brain, you little lame
Lame brains bitch and complain about
How the game changed
I take aim, click bang, ritual
long away this is how I am
I speak my mind on things
That have no deeper meaning
Every single thought of mine is fleeting
Now we sitting by a lake, I
at the door I really hope Big George home
Popo know I move Coke like gas thru Sunoco
My love for the game like kids love for them snow cones
Morals that it had
baby
Whoa, that's I love you sugar
You, you're all I need to get by
Alright now, woo
Ain't nothing like the real thing, baby
Ain't nothing like
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