Lyrics:
getting on your nerve
That we're flattening the curve
Remember that it's for the greater good we serve
John Knox survived the Korean War
Being a cop
I don't be needing a reason
I go by whatever a nigga is feeling, ay
I leave whenever you're healing
Your healing is fucking all of my villains, ay
I
to the moon, Rest In Peace to the Rocket
That's all I'm gonna be yellin' when you see us on 'em tours
L.O.Y.c.L.T.Y, New Money, Blocc Brothers merch all in your
Heard he wanna run with Blocks
He must got a lot of nerve
Slidin' with this mop, icy as a berg
Made a left off of Vermont, called up pop
I gotta serve
Sip syrup a lot
D-damage all these bitches curves a lot
K-k-kick them to the curb a lot
Smoke a lot
'Cause she get on my nerves, a lot
Blow that purple
tour in Chanel (Kicks)
This drip is Chanel (Bitch)
How you gonna talk about dates when half of my team is in jail? (Bitch)
I made Forbes' "30 Under
lucky, my God! Flight of Icarus in those grubby dirty by now horribly sticky little fingers and
hands and grubby palms, and oh what else is grubby, I don't
all take the bow
Including the cow,
Though business is lousy and slow.
With Herbie's vim, Louise's verve,
Now all we need is someone with nerve
budget, got the nerve to call me
Welcome to the business, stand as a witness
Work on your stomach, do physical fitness
I ain't playin, all this African
working
Or dare Interrupt me boy you got some nerve
Watch carefully while I put in this work
Behold how I totally body this verse
Then I hop in the whip,
I don't think you understand my purpose in this rap shit
Only luggage that I bring on tour is a casket
Speaking of a tour, let's not talk about that
floor in them baby drawers
I sent you from off tour and I miss you when I was tourin
Smilin at them baby pictures, so happy, tears pourin
God how can
I wear notes like coats
Blues like doos, war for the rhythm, soul that glues
That bounce to my bones, that jazz in my spine
The hop is my home, rap
Blue River flows in me through thickened nerves
Blue River torments me, untouched by love
I'm taunted by its dark and stealthy flow
In its depths
In the sky, throw 'em in the sky
All these blue faces
Counting up all these blue faces
G5 Tootsie, that's my favorite
She gon' pick that guap
stand on the grave digga plot and
You're singing the blues about the rough life you've got
Not! You don't wanna live no more
I guess you're really
Now you stand on the grave digga locked and
You're singing the blues about the rough life you've got
Not
You don't want to live no more
I guess
to show the truth
A starving boy, searching for fruit
He'd been brutalized and more often than not, he got rejected
By those whom he beheld, like they could
Gimme my gucci slides these christan lous make my feet hurt
I come from the shoe box street work
Bitch im out the box like eeh err
Really got blue
looking for a friend
Maybe you could swing by my room around 10
Baby bring a lemon and a bottle of gin
We'll be in between the sheets 'til the late AM
Baby
ya face, you're it!
It's I who come by drive-thru
Gator-toed Mauri, three quarters, sky blue
Look at mami: eyes blue, 5'2"
I approached her "Hi
and get some head by the side road
She asked him to autograph her derriere
It read
"To Wide Load
This yard bird taste like fried toad Turd
Love
I started
Playing guitar by the town memorial
All my songs were singing editorials
And when I'd done, the sermon on the mount
I counted my change
Now, I'll tell ya a tale that'll bust yer heart
That only a few people knew, ta start
It all took place when our concert tour was booked
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