Lyrics:
probably go to jail
For fuckin Patti Labelle
Ooh Regina Belle, she'd probably do me swell
Jasmine Guy was fly
Mariah Carey, kinda scary
Wait a minute what
you're really real or not, can't take a loss, I can't take a L
I'm famous as hell, I ain't really well, but I'm hanging in there like Patti Labelle
I'm
bought all my shit in cash
They treat me like I'm movin' yayo
I go shopping by myself so they know I don't need a nigga
But you know he breaking bread
great
Always seem to come off, hard for you somehow
I mean, me being wack? Oh, come, come now
That's quite ridiculous, so just admit you was
Thrilled,
As I sit back relax
Steam a blunt, sip a Becks
Think about the sexy singers that I want to sex
I'd probably go to jail
For fuckin' Patti Labelle
Yo, Face, turn me up
Turn me up a little bit more, yeah
He probably would tell you you're beautiful
If he could talk to you
I mean, if there was
on the floor with my mama on Section 8
These niggas sweet, no Patti LaBelle pie
Back in 2019, young nigga so fucked up
Free pick a nigga for three five
You
you at a party, put up your dickbeaters
By time I get through wreckin your jaw
You be callin Patti LaBelle and Barry White hardcore
Why should I
Like a two point five carat clustered jew-el
Rock like patti la-belle
Cause everything is real kid, you dead up
Dissect the true kids gettin set up
a million
A&Rs and exec's were telling me I'm not appealing
Try to turn me into Nas, I'm not him but I forgive you
This is a Boy Marley
Bob Dillon
is Patti LaBelle, string Vivaldi and Bach
My Coltrane is the sax, my drums are Dilla and Quest
My music strong all around
Send a link to the chat,
grenades the size of Patti LaBelle's tits
Rap about artillery but never had no parts of missiles
Thought you had a gun but all you had was just a starter
You gon' have to retire me
It's only like four or five of you rappers who can actually inspire me
I be out here telling the truth
I should sign my
on you girl, Just look at me
I got racks, I can turn you to a model
Pills got me high, NASA
Like Boxer, A big dawg
You don't love me, So why would you say
Holt or Patti Labelle
Grab a bow, take a smell
Drop a bowl, tear a scale
Hundred dollar O's for the whole
Give me 12
You gon' know my Nina well
She come
tell the truth
Niggas hating on me when yards
Can't do convertibles
Dozen shots hit his top
Now he a vegetable
Yeah
All we got is pies Patti LaBelle
Now
She probably on that Patti Labelle
Love me to want you
Something else gon' last 'til the Rapture
Anita Baker tunes
She like to take it back
Trust me I'm
my brother, now he actin' out of place
You can call me Moses, by the way, I'm partin' ways
Niggas try to get at me, I get them out the way
Well, okay
Yea yea yea
Loudpack big 3 shit you feel me
Woah
And I'm on my fuck the drop shit too
I can not fuck up my re-up
Off a perc I might do that shit
She be in the kitchen like Patti LaBelle
With a bunch of jokes all day like Dave Chappelle
A checkbook queen who had a manager well
And a bedroom,
you told me you like the way
That I be on your beach causing’ all your tidal waves
But by the fire place I put the wood in it
I be out of pocket but
step in these n****s, it's overwhelming
I am immortal, these flying shells will hit a cell
My phone ringin', these hands singin', Patti LaBelle
To live
respect me for it (you gotta respect that)
Ain't gonna say my nose can't be open (I may never say never)
Right now it's just too many fine ladies out
respect me for it (you gotta respect that)
Ain't gonna say my nose can't be open (I may never say never)
Right now it's just too many fine ladies out
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