Lyrics:
Throw down
Going to rock you
He a pillow
His ass soft
Going to rough you
Bitch Fuck You
Going to touch you
Yosemite I'll buss you
Hit you up drop the lo
Its the pack jack
You know I am the best Don
Nothing more nothing less than
Draw fee the gun like a western
Ak pon the nightstand
They want war be my
und niederländisches Pot
Du willst Freiheit? Check Arizona
Ne Atmosphäre, wie im Western. Check den Flair in Sedona
Cairns, Bern, Berlin, shit so viele
set foot in Meath
I've scaled the highest mountains
And I've swum the mighty seas
Seen Mother Nature's golden tears
Pour down Yosemite
I've travelled
Whats up with that goddamn camera nigga what's cracking?
Alright let Snoop through with the Western Union (bitch though)
Damani! Soopafly! Hey Bad
Chod ne deta ni edhar kisiko mokka yehh
Neck all clear tattoos no bro yehh
Western feel karo on the mhh track yahh
Utra agar beff pe to ro dega yahhh
constantly dealing with pain, no pleasure
You making a scene, me, blank face, no gesture
I might have a gun on my waist and one in my boot, old western
I did
Shit sounds like some old wild western
Shoot em up, O.K. Corral
Blowin' up spots, Missin' Linx
Better run that
Prepare your eardrums
For one
hookah pens
Hungry break into ya house just for a box of zatarains
Super saiyan Yosemite Sam
Know some black panthas that go contra for the contraband
Yosemite
2 shots for the bickering uh
Fuck out my face is you kidding me
I'm with the winning team
Know that you notice me uh
Shake it real fast like
blocka and they do not miss
Hardest artist sparking how they fucking with me
Should've been in this thing since 2013
Now I'm back and I'm mean cuz of shit
change so imma starting calling them niggas Fifa's
Park the bus style cliche Yosemite
Pulled up to the scene already crazy, people hella fiends
Trying
F-u-c-k Richard Wagner
What a motherfucking monster
King Kong conquered Western culture
Fuck him and his Nazi granddaughter
Fuck his fan club
to get a sprain
Hopin' Western Union doing currency exchange
'Cause my dad called and got me feelin' guilty and ashamed, like
How I had a Rolls and I
name is mc chris havin'
The time of my life
Turn the mic into dynamite
Like Yosemite might, right?
Cause I got the beats and I got the flavor
The narcs
go
Emotions and my love for you are gone
I just wanna be your number
Biggest artist
Living
up
Under the sun
I just wanna be your number one
I just
we abide, by what we ride by
What the fuck y'all done started four apocalyptic prophets
Appearin' outta floatin' objects, wearin' Middle Western
to get a sprain
Hoping Western Union doing currency exchange
'Cause my dad called and got me feeling guilty and ashamed
Like, how I had a Rolls and I
nasty
While we fought all through the conflict
When I call you my bro
Yeah, I mean it
From the western
Still my bro, nigga
We gon' ride till the 16
as I grow as an artist through hard work
Macc hospital I was birthed someday it’s my death bed
For now enjoy the present, I love my town a Macc Lad
I'm a modern mensch, artist with a lot of depth
'Bout to start flippin' my lid like a Benihana chef
Out of shape, but you'll never catch me out
to get this federal reserve money
There's two type of artists, expert and novice
Experts always hit the mark of they target
Enjoy yourself, enjoy
She called pest control
And when she was sprayed
She never was bothered again
She wore western-style boots
Foreshadowing things to come
I said
coats with our hands in our pockets
Slappin' all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded
Swear by our forefathers
Anything you speak, think, or show
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