Lyrics:
up for sale
Dead men, tell no tales
In Gangland, where jail birds die
A knife at your throat another body on the pile
A contract to keep and it's
up for sale
Dead men, tell no tales
In Gangland, where jail birds die
A knife at your throat another body on the pile
A contract to keep and it's
him
Still dressing like grown men when rolling
I went to dark, smoking Newports
Gaming marks
Got a place in my heart, homie stay smart
Locked you up in
Mr. president look what you've done
Screwed up with the nation
Are you happy with it
Making people suffer
Selfish little bastard
In jail you'll
system presumes you to fail
The next place is the corner then after that jail
You've got to understand that this has all been conspired
To put a strain
the braids
Got out of jail I was left broke, well not broke but low funds
Funds lower than they ever was, I was tryna rap without selling drugs
Me and Eric
Joni's lighthearted take on "London Bridge" was a crowd
pleaser in her mid-sixties club show,
before she signed her first recording contract.
This
inhale the Glock smell, while I'm rippin' your wallet off
And slippin' a Molotov in your cocktail (take that)
Burning your contracts, punch your A&R in
inhale the Glock smell, while I'm rippin' your wallet off
And slippin' a Molotov in your cocktail (take that)
Burning your contracts, punch your A&R in
Yeah
Fifty-nine bags on the-, ayy
Swedish jail cell smellin' like some Carby Musk
For your birthday, your boyfriend got a party bus
Bottle signs,
dealing with hidden motives
Like I said I signed one contract
But noticed went to jail, came home
Label playing me closer
Showed me two contracts with my
ever ever ever, get to sleeping with them boys, do that might contract aids, get out give that to your woman, she give it to the next nigga, you and that
read your contract, and eat food
Become a Bird, a Flack, a Lionel
When you catch flack, that mean they got they eye on you
Produce great results, they
My pulse is speeding because we’re leaving this jail today, you feel it coming
Pressure is rising, oh we’ll be roaming this town today
The key he’s
so fast
I'm wishin' that the coppers would get off my ass
My tail, can't go to jail 'cause it's wack
What would happen to my girl and my record
so fast
I'm wishin' that the coppers would get off my ass
My tail, can't go to jail 'cause it's wack
What would happen to my girl and my record
know is rocks and presidents like Mount Rushmore
F*** the police, they hop out and bust doors
I ain't goin' back to jail, n**** that's what I flush for
put it down on some of our homeboys jail release dates
I can remember in the past closin' down at fast foods
Strictly stickin' to my dreams, but
of a job for a while
I reposess your indentification
So hand in your application
Put your mic on strike until you're unemployed
Contract is
the whole night
Few contract and ink-pens later
Turn into boss respect, mob ties and kingpin paper
Mountin' the D, Cardi frames and pink Gators
Gotta
tell it ain't real
Nigga came home from somewhere, I could tell it ain't jail
No music, got a hundred thousand large in the mail
Can't tell them all
know is rocks and presidents like Mount Rushmore
Fuck the police, they hop out and bust doors
I ain't goin' back to jail, nigga that's what I flush for
everybody ain't loyal
Cause all the real niggas in jail or deep in the soil
Dancing with the devil or eating fish with the Lord
Gotta spit it how I live
a case to the city jail
The warden likes it because it won't conceal
Any sort of handmade weapons
That are baked right into their buns
And the taste is
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