Lyrics:
Chevy, Mercedes, I keep 'em comin' (keep 'em comin')
Fuck all these bitches, I keep 'em comin' (foreign)
I pull up right now, I'm parallel (skrrt)
I hit
To all my fellas that's down and doin' time right now
Hold on, stay strong
I see you when you touch down
I see you when you come home
To all my
me, on the left and the right
I'm feeling like Malcolm I'm stuck in the middle
You a rat in the hood, Stuart Little
I'm blowing on gas like a fiddle
rattlesnake right after you salivate
From my bratwurst and weenies, black forests and paninis
If you rub the first two I'm granting wishes like a genie
Cause my
Traditional, arranged
By Arlo Guthrie
Come all you old time cowboys
And listen to my song
Please do not grow weary
I'll not detain you long
of Vegas butt-naked in a ditch
(That's right) By now you can see that I'm global
Slappin MC's for the dreams that they sold you
And all the false
(sung)]
Party people, you're the reason we're here
Cuz we love the game and our music is projects
So, so, yo, hello! Makin' sure y'all still there
Party people, you're the reason we're here
'cause we love the game and our music is projects
So, so, yo, hello! makin' sure y'all still there
On stage
chong
Cook up the beat
And I'm gettin' my feast on
Oh nah' nah' nah' nah' nah'
You like dinner I'll finish you
All these diamonds
Blind these pussy
Lightnin’
Gimme some of your love
Some of that lightnin baby
Just a little bit
Just a little bump now baby
I miss it all night
I miss it right now
Versace, Versace
All these damn plugs
And young Takeoff I'm the socket
Beat that block, Bernard Hopkins
I got flavor Baskin Robins
I'm fuckin' Kitana, you
or die
Fuck around, lay around, do or die
"You figgedy fuck around, you lay around"
Word to Mike Tyson, hit you quick like lightnin'
Swing my left
the ring and
I am feeling like Bernard Hopkins
Go from unknown act to
All of you rappers top ten
First you tried to ignore the boy
Now you got to watch him
Yeah
You know, technically
I'm not even really supposed to be here right now
So fuck it
Might as well make the most of it
(Amen) yeah
(Amen)
lightnin’ rhymin’ like frightenin’ (auhh)
How I’m strikin’ down on foes with this rugged ass flow
Smitin’ y’all motherfuckas with these rough white lightnin
the real street niggas
This right here for the real street niggas
You a real street nigga
You a real street nigga
I'm a real street nigga
You a real street
(Remember Pun?)
Yeah, check me out
(Remember Pun?)
Terror Squad
I'll battle you all, from the charts to ghetto stars
Face Triple Seis,
It's Mainey Nigga
Aye aye
I been doing alright
Lately I been trying to get my bag up right up right
I been trapping all night
Cook in this wood got
(yeah)
All mines independent (yeah-yeah)
Tell it like it is
You ain't really one to see (huh)
How the problem wasn't them
And for sure wasn't me (uh huh)
Cook it uh
Cook it uh
Cook it, Uh cook it, Cook it uh
Cook it uh
Cook it uh
Uh Cook it, Cook it uh
My mental longevity
It Get to cookin
Here's
to the street and roll
to Fanelli's. the booming walk of goods
all over the buckled street like Fred
Hopkins. towers peeking over the corner
of temples.
the weed, T, ya heard me? Yeah
Uhh, now let me start by sayin' I don't like this beat
But I weather the storm, I'm a lightnin' streak
Uhh, Weezy F. Baby, I
and his gun
I must go down to Wexford town
Where the lightnin cracks the air
And the people sing of freedom
They've banished all despair
The coward dies
In the kitchen, stove clicking while you looking back
I'm looking too, I look at you like "let me cook in that"
I'm cutting thru while you working
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