Lyrics:
where you not at
(What?)
Go live, let me see what's around you (Huh?)
Hit you and hit everythin' around you
(Boom, boom)
Had a hole in your head when they
children are the only ones who blush
And that, life is just to die
And, everyone who ever had a heart
They wouldn't turn around and break it
And anyone who
Fuck these niggas thinking?
Y'all niggas thinkin' I'm doing, just sittin' around doin' nothin'?
Oh my God, niggas can't be serious
Where the hood,
I grew up near a porn shop
Next to an old lot
Next to a liquor store
Next to a pawn shop
Next to an arcade
Where they say they sold rock
Tryna shove
Where i'm from I advise niggas don't come around
Cuz where i'm from you wont make it out of my town
We load hollows in pounds I will hollow you down
dead your shit
Shut video shoots down, turn airplanes around
Knowledge in belly anonymous rounds
Tryna host AOD and niggas lying you down
Of course
it, six gun, weighin' a ton,
10 paces and turn, just for fun, son,
Up till sundown, rolling around,
See where the bad guys ought to be found and make
blowing her nose
The theme song will not be
Written by Jim Webb
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell
Tom Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdinck
Yeah, you beat the rap jiggaboo, fake nigga you
You turn around then you shit on Shaq
Who woulda knew, Mr Goodie-Two-Shoes
He love a little butt crack,
nigga you
You turn around then you shit on Shaq
Who woulda knew, Mr goodie Two-Shoes
He love a little butt crack, got enough cash
Little kids with they
the difference
We could turn it all around around
We could turn it all around around
Seems like everybody's fake woke
Talk big but they blow smoke
Do they wanna
screw-top champagne as we can drink
We're so easy
Taking turns having our photos taken
Sitting in front of smoked windows
Decanters of cheap whiskey
where it stays
To the nerdcore underworld, now that's a long way
Can't go alone but it's time to start play
Better join the campaign, magic class arcane
to go
These people don't need money
Where they goin '
Fellas find money wrap up in kerchief and socks
Dead people money
Jaw grind pornography
left
behind, Styrofoam, computer chips.
And Jim and John, oh they were there. And Carol too, her hair pinned up in that weird
beehive way she liked so
did you know Haiti was still in a Drought
They’re dried up like Ms. McCloud’s shit hole - where you popped out
Tricked Hicks with a bible - picked
to having violent psychotic
Quick devour polish it, politics
By the way I'm higher than the Eiffel Tower tip
I like writin'
But I will stick this pencil
sleep when nod's around the corner
Later on, in the afternoon I rise to rap tunes
Way past two turn the dial to BET or Trial TV
If it's hot I'll just
(Theme from) East Plains: Get Out!
Words & Music © December 31, 2015 by R. Fairwood
Clarky Eff and Rusty knew they both was trapped:
Clarky
don't know what to do
But I take hours of comfort in the pictures of you
And I'm crossing each day off as they go by
The tears want to come out but I
the condition for addition of a worldly sound
Love thy neighbor and they'll turn into a friend
It's how we stay humble, grinning through the end
I've helped you
gettin' chicks, I'm already pouncin' that
Goin' through some shit? Lemme know, always around to chat
Fuck a frat, all they personalities flat
I craft
where i sleep, now give me my key
[Verse 8: N.O.R.E.]
New York get the blood money, dirty cash still sweet
We will blackwall street by the swapmeet with
man
Turn the speakers up the speakers up
Turn the speakers up
Turn the speakers up
A little more that ain't enough
We like it loud
And when they hear
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