Lyrics:
to a hundred
No doubt
The boy is cursed
The boy is cursed
Word on the street everybody say he is cursed
The boy is cursed
The boy is cursed
Word on the street
Hello
Let me introduce myself
My name is Jesus with the three before the E
This here is a song talking all about me
I'm a ninety's baby and I was
the damages
I seen to much
But not enough
But way to much
To much that three minutes wouldn't cut
I need a Ted Talk
And strut walk
To show my life
Tell my story
It's 3:30 in the morning and we still up
Just chilling by the island playing flip cup (Yeah)
Couple broads in the bathroom, fixin they makeup
Then we
a second I been faking
Only word I know is go, these fuckers be lazy
I made 3, 4, 5, 10, fuck it hundred songs
I got a new song every other week
And all
daydreaming of hugs and 3 kisses
It's so dark, I still look for the light
Why you start it but know you won't end it?
I can turn these lil words to a image
You
you're doin' your thing too
I'm a deadbeat cousin, I hate family reunions
Fuck the church up, by drinkin' at the communion
Spillin' free wine, now my
the M6 he'll be back by six
Why did they take my bro?
The world is cold
You can call that frozen over
Word to MKAY man it's fuck them hoes
Cause the girl's
Just look me in my eyes, tell me what you see (tell me)
2. Never no disguise, can’t be a wanna be (can’t)
3. wanna be myself, keep it a 100 that’s it
and come runnin' to see
If $hort Dog is in the car, Murder 1 is with me
You heard Nationwide was ballin', we make 100's and G's
Takin' trips to the islands,
a three-five (uh-oh)
I pay the ticket, one day you gon' die (bap)
When I'm in the kitchen, I be cooking crack pies (crack)
I got chickens in the trunk, you
for the plummet
Now I'm opening these clips crawlin through mud pits
With guns and hundreds of clips on Uncle Sam's budget
Hundred rifles itself,
Both complimented by repeating rhythmic funk
Traveling speeds at well over a hundred miles an hour
But then again, it couldn't have been much more over
Give it my 100 like I'm Wilt Chamberlain
When I shoot the three you know I make it rain
Come up in my lane
I don't hesitate
It's the winning play
when it's time to rock
I speak out - my voicebox peak out at a hundred watts
Who wanna cipher, I get dumb
Word to my mother, the Father, the Holy Ghost
to split with a hand scale
Three hundred grams'll leave your man still (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
Don't mind me speakin' coke, I talk it fluent
Word
let you pass me
[The Lox]
Yo what's beef to you, three niggaz with hoodies and bats
That ain't shit compared to one small cat with gats
When we came
Yo what's beef to you, three niggas with hoodies and bats
That ain't shit compared to one small cat with gats
When we came here we cut off all kind
Yo what's beef to you, three niggas with hoodies and bats
That ain't shit compared to one small cat with gats
When we came here we cut off all kind
Peoples' eyes closed like envelopes by folk membership
With unpaid doctor bills, framed got shot and killed
Cock, pop and pilled
Three-tenth cotton steel
got him
My mouth is an Uzi and I shot him
With the hundreds of rhymes and rhythm designed
To make him rewind, this time I draw the line
He's mine...just
were gonna start
But what amazed me even more
Is I'd never heard that song before
But somehow I knew each word by heart
And I don't know why, I
appeal to the brothers with flow finesse
'Cause it's the hundred watt blood shot game of death
'Cause we're protected by the covenants of words and beats
appeal to the brothers with flow finesse
'Cause it's the hundred watt blood shot game of death
'Cause we're protected by the covenants of words and beats
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