Lyrics:
This song is dedicated to the Donald Trump of rap
Kangol from UTFO
(We're only buggin)
It's on me to start, so let me grab the handle
Bring
've become a star
Because you're the biggest target out there, right?
When everyone's on the court, they're coming for you
When the opposing player walks
That 223, give it to me
I'm weighing Bobby Brown by the pound, whatever you need
That 223, give it to me
I'm weighing Bobby Brown by the pound,
this song until its done
It starts with one man at the helm of the majesty
Don't take my boy, he's only 17
Men are pulling at the ropes that line
you brother/ This song is for you my brother
Those are people who died, died
Those are people who died, died
Those are people who died, died
Those are
papi wait this joint is like a Ruger
Watch it roar like a cougar
Now we gotta move on the dance floor
And work it out all night
That's what you came here
to verdant planes
They fell like rain onto helm right before them
Come with us we are your liberators said by the 4 men of hue
O' thy great deceiver
About to run the A
When we drop stanlanta
Bobby Creek
You know his motherfuckin' name nigga
Bobby Creek
He ain't no motherfuckin' game nigga
I'm
Ha ha ha ha ha, Steels
You bout to catch this vick
Yo, you bout to catch this vick
Old sad ballads and gun permits was invalid
Raspberry
'll never understand me
I plan to give it to you raw, get a plan B
Y'all be racing to the cash, that's a grand prix
I go Ricky Bobby for that bag, that's
through struggles, then you spit it through a hard song
Fake niggaz, trying to follow my every move
Until you load up, and put hollows through every wound
invitation for tea time
'Twas given by somebody I can't recall
It's the middle of the riddle, it's not very serious
It's nothing but a big surprise
[U-God]
Yo yo
I was born with this magnet, warned by the dragnet
About my dirty habits, I got to have it, the super-glow
Deuce Bigelow - Male Gigolo
haha)
(By the end of the night, you goin' be mine)
(Luda! And Valentin' the dream)
[Bobby Valentino (Ludacris)]
Don't leave your girl round me
I make that shit for the streets
you just gotta hit play
Straight outta Compton
I got it just like I'm O'Shea
Stay in the field
Balling like bobby
come
Come this far
To erase the person I am
To be the person you are
I've been fighting and clawing
For my chance and now it's here
This life is my ship
The answer has always been art
This hidden messages of all time
Were made by those who rhyme their spells
The hidden messages are in art that's on your walls
I'm the shit cause I'm on one
Finna nosegrind like a skateboard, that's your bitch? Well I ain't sure
You a square, nigga, there's a name for it
You
a hearse
You owe me rappers, this da time to reimburse
This song is only one take
Never had time to rehearse
Am da true rap savvy
All you emcees worthless
Bobby will body anybody Like Gotti did Gambino, from Maryland to Reno
We know Tarantino a killer
But the Young Sinatra got you by the neck
and womb keepers")
("Join us for this
Year's graduate occasions")
("Outline of proceedings for this year are on
The reverse side of this document")
I trail
Bobby where's the beer and the weed at?)
Look girl shit I got more than a little
She set me up for the kiss of the black widow
You couldn't get
playing. People are chattering.)
PARTY GUY
Come here, try some of this!
PARTY GIRL
Would you blow up my balloons? Flash!
(Captain Kwirk clears his
press, so pockets is on swole
Young Boss now, can't wait till I'm old
This my song, can't put you on
Coupes all white like niggas girls when they get
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