Lyrics:
hair hang down
And give me that leather
Come on
Put a record on
And your dirty white boots, come on
You know you turn me on
In your dirty white
hang down
And give me that leather, come on
Put a record on
And your dirty white boots, come on
You know you turn me on
In your dirty white boots, come
They love me cause I'm from
The Boot
We step on niggas in
The Boot
Now watch me jigg and hit
That Boot
Huhnn
Huhnn
Huhnn
Huhnn
Hillaryville i
[Chorus: Lecxs Ahziz]
If ya with Blaqman Records just say aight
If ya feeling Blaqman Records just say aight
If ya down wit Blaqman Records just
(J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League)
57, yes, yes, good for a D-Boy
Hand my MAC-11 to the engineer to record
Got the baddest women in the world for me to feed on
Double
the partition of God's religion
Become united by our bars and our common visions,
The "C" of Tranquility, what will it really be?
What does the future hold?
Come on baby lets dance to those Nashville Boots
My guitar tells a fiddles tale
Keyboards lead a pianos wail
Drumming life into my lyrics
They go up
Yung FSK
Skinny Nigga
Rattenjunge
Schmutz Record Thats The Way
Die Zeit is' knapp
Leben kurz wie ein Croptop
Die Zeit is' knapp
Sie nehmen dich hops
one in the holster
Nigga you front, and I'ma pop one in your shoulder
[Noreaga]
Yo raise the partition, cock guns with ammunition
Knock you out
tell them dirty bitches
I'm the queen sleaze
When he put it in me, I go squeeze, squeeze
Shawty got swag, she rocking Fendi
It's all on her boots (All
records, or about cocaine
Rap game, dope game both the same if you ask me
E and J and Hennessy's the same if you ask me
Nike boots and Timbaland's the same
one in the holster
Nigga you front, and I'ma pop one in your shoulder
[Noreaga]
Yo raise the partition, cock guns with ammunition
Knock you out
Now I gotta partition the conservatory couldn't afford
Represent for the poor, I got a bonita viva amore
Call her an angel, she’s lifting me up to new
boots
That you got from your record label's image group
Sing another man's song with a big drum loop
Listen, son, you ain't got a clue
You can't buy
Oops upside of ya head
I said oops upside of ya head
Boots to the side of ya dreads
Timb boots to the side of ya dreads
Oops upside of ya head
I
Buddy, if you wanna score
Get off the couch and get out of the house
Long about a Friday night
Shine up your boots, polish up your moves
If you wanna keep
boot kale suit kale kamm mithiye ni rakhi dashboard ute rathi 47 hundi aa
We are no angels guaranteed, check our criminal records
Got a lotta enemies,
content
Blue and white yankee fit my look still hood
Boots with the tree stump climb up on da wood
No partition and she still on her knees
Cuz da flow
Look
It's that 90s kid nigga
Who is so hard on the beat
Number one
On these records
Never second I just lead
Maruijan
I be repping
I be smoking
Nashville and all the records that everybody's buyin'
Says, "I'm a simple girl myself, grew up on Long Island"
So she packs her bags to try her hand
Says
strong
When a record's on, they know I'm gone livin' in Rakim Allah's image
Start penning, the arsonist
Wan' be targeted by all of ya frauds dissin'
So we
on a spaceship with bob dylan
I made this record with my mind back on track
My rhymes all came uh straight from the sack
They stored in my genital warts
When
There ain't an empty spot on the old dance floor
All cowboy hats, boots, and jeans
Ridin' that honky tonk time machine
He's gonna make damn sure
(I just come and tell Chris to record me man (blow a cloud for me)
Record me cause I think I’m hot not cause I’m hot
I think I’m hot ni**a aha!)
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