Lyrics:
tryina get it up and see a better life/cop ice today so it can be a better night!
I fuck wit ya soul like ether/show you the king you know who/GOD son
out ion like to be seen
Not cuz i got breesh in my jeans
But shit why he lookin at me
Damn i pray he aint playin wit me
I aint fw niggas who talkin too
Uh
Yeah
Uh
Got the whole game tryna’ fuck wit ya’ boy
Got the whole game tryna’ fuck wit ya’ boy
Got the whole game tryna’ fuck wit ya’ boy
Fuck wit
take you through a tunnel of thought
Wit no support now you got caught off guard
By the number one scar from the Illa-Fifth
Lyrically fulfillin' this
what your track miss
This is a double decker from the head wrecker, neck and head checker
Check the check and who's def? Who's left ya?
Standing
I be wit the killers, I be by myself
I be gettin' money, I be by myself
I stay in designer, I be by myself
It ain't hard to find me, I be by
letter of the Alphabet y and z
In a Cadillac Deville macking in The driver seat
Rubbing on her thighs by Surprise
Got her wet like a beach
And I'm on her
I bet you stay up in the mirror
Can't have a ol' man
Man how could he put up wit ya?
Everybody jumpin' in the picture tryna get ya
When it comes
what
Who the fuck think they want it wit Neek
you get it off yo chest in the booth or out on these streets
The bitches love the barely broke mob
what
Who the fuck think they want it wit Neek
you get it off yo chest in the booth or out on these streets
The bitches love the barely broke mob
wit her cause hoes they be messy
I'm stuck wit a Nicki, don't know who you pressin'
If I send my hittas, they hit, they gon stretch him
We wipe that boy
check it out check
It out check it out fuck wit ya head!
Check it out, check it out, check
It out, who's next nigga, time out
DL DL! That's my name don't
buy they game
If he ain't scored in the first half bench his ass
If you play wit' my money I'm a lynch ya ass
I'll John Lynch ya shit don't tempt me
doin?) Nothing chillin at the Holidae In
(Who you wit?) Me and my peeps won't you bring four of your friends
(What we gon' do?) Feel on each other
doin?) Nothing chillin at the Holidae In
(Who you wit?) Me and my peeps won't you bring four of your friends
(What we gon' do?) Feel on each other
[Mike Jones]
Who?! Mike Jones [Repeat: x3]
Shyeah!
Keep ya eyes open
For them jackers, baby
It's going down
[Chorus Lil' Bran: x2]
Even
most niggas I tote trigga
For you broke nigga and gold diggas wit no figga
That's why I palm the heater for all you non believers
I'm on ya ass like
to you
Big comes through wit
Mobs and crews
Goodfellas down to the Mo' Thug dudes
Who's the killer? me or you?
(We forgive you for you know not what
with a shorty from Iceland
Who old dad put 'em up on white sand
Starving to make a wack debut he came through the lobby
Three culture Devilles with
appliance
Baby mamma cryin, sobbin and grievin
You was at aws wit them kids till they made it even
Let down ya guard, yes you did, now you barely breathin
and it hurts 'cause it's worse
Momma's crazy 'cause her baby's in a hearse
Wussup wit the love?
This land once owned by Indians, who then would learn
Blow jib is magic like the Skull Kid
Like getting blown by 80 twisters
I’m trying to smack ya with my wand like a cranky wizard
You know that would be so
ain't fucking wit us ya hear me
BandZzz
Eh eh
See I gotta live it up
Only fucking wit who fuckin wit me
You ain't fucking wit me you ain't real enough
recognize you when they found ya
An they still don't know who downed ya
This shit is deeper than you think
Wit' a straight face
Lay down an come up off
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