Lyrics:
portrayin' he a killer 'cause his mic on
Bygones be bygones, I'm not that guy
I can't be that high, gold bottles, baptize 'em
Niggas get wrapped for me,
alive as the storm swept through your mind,
by the door you were there, holding your breath
as the darkness stole your eyes I was searching for the light,
A sip of my drink and I asked for her name
Playing the game
A bottle of red made time fly
Then she turned away
And I
I realize that it takes more than
be the glory like when a Nollywood flick ends
For changing the story from Kori and getting stipends
From jolly good rich friends
To creating systems
Ayy, always been a black sheep
Strugglin' to work the ATM
I just bet 20K on black at the MGM
When it hit, champagne bottles
Bring the paper in you
it no doubt
And I need some vacation time
I'm getting stressed out
Invite me in a whim I shock
Them when I turn out
Forgiato wheels spinning when I
going on?
I been smoking on the gas, dog
What's going on?
Lied to by my homie bitch, dog
What's goin' on?
Fuck the world and let 'em die slow
I'm blowin'
Im in this bitch with all my jewelry on
I swear to god
And i got that glock on me just incase some shit go wrong
Its tez by the way
We come to your
like he was sealed in an orange bottle to the point
He couldn't eat any pill that was hard to swallow
So we wallowed, he wallowed until he found his
that old skool lovin'
Tell me how you love me now
Spin the bottle
Lookin' for trouble
Here I'm holla-in'
Don't you stray too far from me
Baby, I'm,
top
As long as I'm here I'll rip it so long
that you'll never let the blue stop
[Chorus]
[Lil Wyte]
Well I'm fucked up! by now you should see
Maker's
im the shit
i dont hold no cups ima bottle poppin nigga
and i pause like this...now lets get em
and if she lookin for a baller than she must
be
Hustler tales
Cause my voice makes honies want to touch theyselves
Just give it to me girl, shake your booty ma
Make a nigga want to turn you to a movie
model It ain't all about the money, hey it came by me love I turn that hand to tie back when I'm working too much I'll convince what your girl said I love
feat. Mr. Lil One, Mr. Shadow
[Host:]
Tonight I'm standing on highway 666
Running pretends like the Cortez shipwreck
[Mr. Lil One]
Stimulated by
I'm in the swamp of sorrows, sippin' out the bloody bottle
Cook 'em like a carbonara, he won't live to see tomorrow
Fuck it, all the time is
rumble, mosh with human nature
Step in the fog and view the carnage
Labors of bloodlust, we combust
We're sun struck, no room for dumb luck
She's not my
Hang me in your dorm room
Paint me on shampoo bottles and
Place me in plastic happy meals
Then give me away
New face, same old cd
Safe smack for easy
I'm gonna run from the voice of reason 'till it turns to laughter
Against the masquerade like I don't believe in the morning after
the chronicles
turning my cheek
I had to turn a new leaf on niggas, smoking Swisher Sweets
Was on them Backwoods for some weeks
Then I got straight to the paper
My
caught a fatigue
'Cause y'all are hollow like the bottom of this bottle of Beam
Don't get caught in between, I'm real nasty with it
One gut punch
kinda flippy, pockets never skimpy
Married to Marijuana with that drama you can miss me
Fifty-fifty I'm a playa, slash money maker by nature
I get that
do more than lay in the yard
To look like a Belize postcard
or a reality star
But this story's tragic
You don't turn orange by magic
You could do it
To down that show - with 2 shoes and a magic hand man
Now it's a plan as flamenco turns to -down shakin
There's a jazz jam and Julie's got the whole joint
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