Lyrics:
Get Live, To the hoop ya'll get live, 2003
Get live, Swish, woohoo!
Scribble on the wall
Got them dribbling the ball
It's the number one player in
and accomplished
Up on the wall of fame to the losses
The sports just calls our name no cautions
I could never wanna walk away
Conquer the vision the reason
como Wall (flash), mato como un R Sport (prr-prr)
Ninguno fuerce conmigo que soy Peyton Manning pero en el Super Bowl, yeh (jejeje)
Los burros se
he's got on the wall in my real world hall of fame
The whole world ain't gotta know your name
The whole world ain't gotta know your name, nah
Hamworthy Sports and Leisure Centre
Posters on the walls
Muscle and bone
Hamworthy Sports and Leisure Centre
It's real neat
You get deep heat
But who's
(Trappin' a sport)
(Yeah yeah, hey)
True to the game
Was whipping the Range
When I was new to the game
Dope on the digital scale
I was just
range
See, I boast so strange and I'm on the run
Because I brutalize a beat, and I do it for fun
For sport, on the court they call me the Drain-O
Into
in they mouth
Is it for the recognition in a sport full of greats
Is it for the accolades, or what come with the fame
They tried to hit me with
Lofsky Got the Heat
Hall of Fame
Yeah I'm feeling like a sports star
Bankroll
And I'm shining in the Nascar
Hall of Fame
Yea I'm feeling like
music.
Crucifying Hip-Hop, it ain’t even Jewish.
Fly shit, these hating niggas play my stewards.
Fame I’m choosing, sports car gas pedal get a bruising.
Skrrr
Skrrr
Skrrr
Skrrr (yeah)
Yeah, haters hate
Yeah, my diamonds glazed
I'm at the top you ain't
Oh that's such a shame
Yeah, the wall of fame
Audi Sport per i bro, tutti quanti su con me
Una tro' che mi chiama, voglio solo fare cash
Faccio bang, una pioggia di Audemars
Voglio solo stare
rats with tags.
Ain't got a passport.
Ain't got my real name.
Ain't got a chance, sport, at fortune and fame.
And I walk these endless streets,
gotta trap on Monday
I gotta trap on my off day
I can't get no off day
Trappin a sport load up a torch
I jumped off the porch
A nigga hollin fuck
rats with tags
Ain't got a passport
Ain't got my real name
Ain't got a chance, sport, at fortune and fame
And I walk these endless streets, won't
fame
In the game things'll never be the same
Because money changes everything
Once again comin at you hyper
Donald D the Syndicate Sniper
Boston
‘Cause you burn with the brightest flame
(Yeah)
And the world's gonna know your name (Yeah)
And you'll be on the walls
Of thе Hall of Fame
You can go
Christian Dior
I took the jet to the New York store
She lick while I'm drivin', I'm stainin' the floor
I took it off track, now I'm ridin' in sport (yeah)
his friends had all gathered
They knew his time was short
On his head, they put this bright blue cap
From his all-time favorite sport
He told
feet from within. Now I'm so tall I see over the wall of Berlin
Heavily guarded dogs, wire, and landmines. Put me in a cage, you can't trap minds
Eh yo, whassup E Double?
Yo what's up man?
Yo these crab MC's
Got us trapped up behind these walls man
But I'm ready to break out there and do this
Look
I stood tall
My back against the wall
Win, lose, or draw
Ima go for it all
I just wanna ball
Dream chasing is my sport
Painting with blood
his friends had all gathered
They knew his time was short
On his head, they put this bright blue cap
From his all-time favorite sport
He told
Everyone thinks that I have it all
But it's so empty living behind these castle walls
These castle walls
If I should tumble, if I should fall
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