Lyrics:
get cake
I pop my shit you might not like it
But you better stay in yo place
I see through shit just like a psychic
Just by the look in yo face
It's
see us early rise, the chapter ridden die
(Keep bouncing)
Runnin’ wild I’m in apocalypto
Wild, wild west minded
Motherfucker tryna get a nut and prolly
Now you never know when it's your time
It's always there in the back of your mind
Read it in the paper, see it on TV
You never think it could
education
And I’m sure this will end up online
So I don’t want to diss anyone at
The American Academy, I’m sure it’s equal to
The Art Institute of Chicago by
DiDi, try to swap drug for TV's
Stores run out of baking soda from BK to QB
My niggaz die for the cause, .45 on the drawer
City laws made by Big Nas
court and for what don't know why
Cuz I'm low that the psychic can't even predict it
Packs dangled over me is not Lipton
Can't have a dog by me wimping
of my mind
Past the broken trees and the frozen leaves
To the cave of dying dreams and insomniac tendencies
Surrounded by other lost beings, with visions
Girl, please
You gamers rise up like gang weed. Who you think taught you to blow trees?
Who you think brought you the oldies?
Psychic TVs, Tiny Tims,
(ayy)
You ain't on my frequency, aerial or TV
You 2D? I'm 3D, you 4G? I'm 5G
I came correct like Nike, I read you all like psychics (woof)
by ropes and mistreated
Excision is the tradition
Psychic viruses of this wretched land
Smoothing iron on your titties
Vicious cycle that never ends
Where do all the gods go when no-one needs them anymore
Do they become T.V. psychics, trick cyclists, phone sex whores
When nobody wants them to be
freaking holes in my veins just from
Breathing this world In, looking around
Didn't see any truth
It may be blocked by the neons
Cannot see art all I'm
controversy
My attitude, Picking only the bad things
From the east side to the west side
Oh-oh-oh, can't shut my mouth
One by one, surprised by bad news
We got
to god that I see her today
Maybe not, maybe so, West Deer Park that's all I know
Just me and my homies, people that know me
Only ones that know
Around my
I am a computer and I dance like metronome
I am now invading through the TV in your home
But you won't see me as I make you a code jerk
I am
longer
They thought that the West Coast leave
But we still be float
Mo' money 2 fold
Nigga ice cold
Mo' money 2 fold
[Kurupt]
A G is a G which we
Simpson family hardly spoke
With seven kids, it wasn't a joke
Just meeting at night on the sofa
All trying to watch TV
Tucked away in North West
Break me off proper, gun in that doctor
Gats at yo head, call me Mr. Non-stopper
Tech 9 shooter, lady, ruder
Down South hustla, West Coast ruler
3rd
of a building
Your body's found by children
Playin' hide go seek
All we found was his skeleton
In the back of a car
You spawned with the wrong guard
You know my
beat me (ayy)
You ain't on my frequency, aerial or TV
You 2D? I'm 3D, you 4G? I'm 5G
I came correct like Nike, I read you all like psychics (woof)
out, I'm the C-A-S-A-N, the O-V-A
And the rest is F-L-Y
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix
And these reasons I'll tell you why
You
bet that truck be bladed up
Bentley still crawling on fo's so they ain't fading us
In the hood I'm a grinder, wood on the vinyl
TV, VCR, I'm laid
West, Tommy, and we lookin' for the true one
Swung on Richmond, Holla, TV Johnny
I need 33 diamonds like Patrick Ewing
A lot of these niggas don't know
I'm with ya
It feel like we fine, I know it's harder to find it inside
I know, cause I been living the same
Watching TV shows and tryna fill up my days
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