Lyrics:
A thousand bags of that mid shit (hell yeah)
This that shit that get yo kids rich (hell yeah)
Hundred bags of that kush shit (hell yeah)
This that
Baby was with it in mid sentence, I feel it
Hustling, fucking on bad bitches, I did it
It's just the beginning I ain't even close to finished
I got money
In the guise of night
It was mid July
Burn the images
Of the highlights
Did you run from it?
Did you plan for this?
New start for you
For
otherwise
She couldn't get away from those guys
Time and time again, her will was tried
In person and by internet spies
Could've filled a continent with
smoking reggie mid
Vibe the nigga popping out on this side of the continent
Yeah imma crunch you not no cinnamon
Think I need a villainess
Think I need
a couple blocks
(all that man, I need a fo, a deuce)
It started in that temp, flippin' mid's by them O-Z's
On the hill wit that shit from a custom
reappears where he began. A hockey player frozen mid shot, yet sliding toward the ceiling. Again... and again. Moving... but not moving.
Suddenly I'm
with a left to the mid section and a right to the nose
And Oohhhh he stomped him in the toe
Popeyes a swingin dodging kicking, scratching, biting,
tried to convince I'm on the fence, Pj's to different continents (different parts of the world)
Wonder who did that? It was me but I stayed anonymous (I
and railway stations
Stranded with a ratpack and guitar
The languages and the places change
And the sky has different stars
I may be walking through the streets
a ticket for a railway trip
Two of a kind
In the windows you
Will see the sun
The waters in your mind
A crazy Dutchman
In
Of the perpetual railway station
He'll leave in a week or two
Unearthed a few truths and a host of frustrations
Oh, he's our man
Oh, he's our man
In
deals so I'm a pa
Twenty G's on the chain and I'm still worth a couple blocks
It started in that temp, flippin' mids by them O-Z's
On the hill wit
Stretch your feathers out the window tonight my dear
I'll reach across the continent and feel you there
There are weeds in the garden and old things
bitch I be Confident
Building my legacy
Building a Continent
Tryna get money
You doing the Opposite
Nigga I’m rapping spazzing
Thrashing nigga I’m cashes
all my potnas with me out the continent
She giving me head I'm all in her conscious
Wasn't born rich (damn) that wasn't the plan
Hit a lil lick and I
honest with
And that our true feelings are wide enough to move continents
Drifting in and out of consciousness
Drifting in and out of self-consciousness
I
trying to get out of the room
Do you always see me lost in your identity?
Mid season replacement
Soldier of the enemy
If I keep my mouth shut they won't
In the northest part of the continent, a sound came out, in the mid nineties.
This sound is like the grandfather, of the recent music.
But ¿what if
How did I end up here
Curled up on this couch?
Where did you learn such a bold wink
Whisking me off to your bedroom?
Mousy toy
This continent is
Why the only continents that end with can are African and north and South American
What makes you think my niggas can't?
This shit is deeper than
But it wasn't, on a mid-winter evening, rising
---not the moon it was actually some uptown building's peak light
appearing at a glance out
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