Lyrics:
custom tees, rock Dolce and Gabbana (Gabbana)
Posted up where you can see us, out in the Bahamas (hama's)
Q and CP on the beat, we takin' the whole summer
E-mail, celly talk, 2-way, faxes
Rap boldgers love, just ask the axis
Relax, listen to what your ears say
Don't believe the hearsay, or what peers say
Feedback blasting out my ears
Makes me so high
I love all the monitor men
But why are they alive
The van is making me crazy
It's just like being in
Feedback blasting out my ears
Makes me so high
I love all the monitor men
But why are they alive?
The van is making me crazy
It's just like
to hear the profound brown vomiter
Absorb the sonic energy manifestin' through your monitor
The livin proof, I make the truth sound clear
Mr. Man, in
(I know you do!)
That custom Breitling
Make you feel some type of way (I'm shinin' ho!)
This bitch I'm with
Got me feeln' some type a way (Okay
on this ankle monitor
Your honor, I'll never honor ya
I promise, bitch how you want it?
It ain't no warning
I'ma leave holes in yo' garment
Cuz gon' pull up
situation?
Am I wrong for egging his cases?
One ear in and out the other tune him out
Clear out the film, and sing along
La da-di dum dum da da dum da dum
La
a scream
Seem to be a too likely thing
Parents always bickering
Hole in wall cup shattering
This house wasn't to flattering
Turn the music up til my ears
She can sniff your secrets
She will trace your trail
An army of eyes and ears
Too intent to fail
Lurks in every corner
Sampling all the time
ears so it ain't hard to hear
I'm that bitch
And any hoe they say different, fuck em
If he ain't on his shit then I duck em
My shit custom
Always got
breath
And listening
(Keys swing from my hand)
My ears know that my eyes are closed
(Perish thoughts like contraband)
I train myself in martial arts
breath
And listening
(Keys swing from my hand)
My ears know that my eyes are closed
(Perish thoughts like contraband)
I train myself in martial arts
The shot is slow pan, monitor guffawing
Flooded p.d. blotter under horizontal coffee
More to follow, outside tweakers are in love
Teeny Raquel Welch
there is magic in the music of my shears.
I shed no tears, lend me your ears.
Isn't it romantic?
Soon I will have found some girl that I adore.
You tried to trick me with a color tv
What you design for me is all I can see
I have screen in my eyes and monitors in my ears
Is this the truth
chasing bags, you following the trends
Cartis on my face, ran me a band for these lil custom lens
Pull up in a stolo, we gon' slide, watch your Mercedes
back in the house and your apartment
So open your door, by the way, so we can start it
Test the monitors and call this mic
'Cause the way we feel,
Juarez
"There's gold in them there hillsâ??
So said a man with a broken tooth
We could run some cocaine powder
Right on by the custom's booth
I
(Jansport J)
More layers than the ozone,
I swear these pavements
Been so coal,
I do not mean
The fans of Jermaine,
I mean the mans in the lane,
generate a path, make it last
Dollar, ripple, bitcoin
Hide it in the back
Custom-build us a life these trolls cant hack
24/7 the whole 3-6-5
Dual monitor
On the platform, flash the passport passed the customs
Black puppets wannabe Buffets, chasing the McGuffin
Half -assing nothing, just cheffed
and the G stands for G sync
That means I'm monitor niggas in case I have to pull the tech
I'm a party boy, everything I do is full of flex
Fuck you with my
I be we wide awake
Fuck contemplating fitting in when you custom-made
Yeah, Playing with that grey matter's so much pressure
Like how you go from
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