Lyrics:
I'll turn up where your college or centre is
And send you six you dickhead
I've let so many violations slide G
Guys don't like me and now they wanna get
Of marketing to your fans & take exams at your colleges
Ya'll don't fill up ya'll pages
Ya'll don't play on your stations
Ya'll fly out the country just to fight
18 with a dream
Go to college, hit the league and ball how I seen
Them Saturday lights bright but it ain't all that it seems
Cause yea they say you
cow, tapped in, I can't tap out
Bitch, keep thinkin' I'm sleepin' in, it's Tony on the monitor, I see your ass creepin' in
Little bitch, if it weren't
Bugatti's, man, put some babies through college
Quit tryna’ act like the trap is cool, ‘cause we tired hearin’ that garbage
Hey, bags of white, pints
Down bad chasin doses of potion
Dropped out college that wasn't my notion
Stove hit knives all kept inna cabinet
Little did I know it wasn't even bad
Far away from little West Virginia
Played the tune of someone much bigger than you and I
Some misguided wisdom
Told you to make the way above
Somebody better call the cops, yo
'Fore we run up the side that niggas little condo
Put him in a box so the nigga in a cargo (cargo, cargo)
Shut a nigga
a league of own nigga let me talk shit
Show me the best and I'll put them rumors to rest nigga let me talk my shit
Class is in session this is my first
believe that
I miss her when she go like "Where my g at"
In a league of her own, she a bad one
Never felt like this, you never had one
(She bad, I'm
on Counterstrike
Tensions high but soupmans in Ridgewood like Castro in Harlem
Switchbacks hairpin
Station to station
Sharks to some plankton
No standing Ovations
on 'em
Dope money with a band on it
Half gold, we got a hand on it
D-boys still ball the same
Just gotta little bit of glam on it
Yah
I got flames
Boys, which was a bluegrass band I was in in College Station, Texas.
We were a little four piece band, we played weddings and parties and out
the league if my growth spurt come in, on my mama
2009, bro dropped The Warm Up
I was in warm-ups playin' Weezy
And Yukimi, Little Dragon, flame breathin'
A bus the yellow lighting of the gas station
Against the dark hours of
Midnight fast asleep
Silence my head slumped over
My mom's shoulder her
Voice
Rouge for a couple of years
My college career got downed with a couple of beers
Came back home, now I gotta pay back loans
Same nigga, same block, same
a plank and tell me what in the fuck are you thinkin'?
Little gay lookin' boy
So gay I can barely say it with a straight face lookin' boy
You witnessin'
know until I had a son who played Little League that baseball could get any more boring than it already is. I go to these games moms, you know. I go
a product of the dream making from both sides of my family. My parents met in their college cafeteria in New York. Both were the first in their families
in the f- are you thinkin'?
Little g- lookin' boy
So g- I can barely say it with a straight face lookin' boy
You witnessin' a mass-occur
Like
like I was sittin' in the train station
You bet it's betta than college, like a scholar
Follow me there's a whole lotta knowledge, its obvious
I'll smoke
and Lesley ended up on that same train
I'm talking everyday, I used to wake up around seven or eight
To catch the 906 from Norbury Station
Two different
speed, I was hellbound, not Hellcat
I done jumped off from that Little League, to a Big League, with a big bat
Hating ass nigga I dont feel that, sending
Station, Texas
We were a little four piece band
We played weddings and parties and out on the porch and beer joints
And one weekend on a handful of cheap
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