Lyrics:
right through you
I walk right through you
You took me for a joke
You took me for a child
You took a long hard look at my ass
And then played golf
right through you
I walk right through you
You took me for a joke
You took me for a child
You took a long hard look at my ass
And then played golf
Had my golf clubs on my shoulder when you saw me first today
Wearin' my old army sweater that you thought you threw away
And when you saw me
The main peace keaper is playing golf
All the wars are certainly lost
And the armies have left the positions
And the country will slide as a ghost
golf at a quarter to six
I love to fuck on a regular bitch
Famous hoes lame but they stay on my dick
Heard your new joint, it's embarrassing, shit
I don't know about your brain-
But mine is really bossy
I come home from a day on the golf course
And I find all these messages
Scribbled
Had my golf clubs on my shoulder when you saw me first today
And my old army sweater that you thought you threw away
And when you saw me standin'
Had my golf clubs on my shoulder
When you saw me first today
Wearin' my old army sweater that
You thought you threw away
And when you saw me standin'
motherfuckers died for nothing
You can't pay me to join an army camp
Or any other motherfuckin' military branch
of this United goddman States of this bitch
{"That's all I ask of you"}
From the Bronx to Queensbridge, on back to Redhook
Never lost a gram on any eighth that I cooked
Fat Joe, army fatigue
to join an army camp
Or any other motherfuckin' military branch
Of this United goddman States of that bitch America
Be a soldier, what for?
They puttin'
the Army's West Point, because tuition was free
He wed his girlfriend, Mamie in the middle of '16
Then trained tank crews at Gettysburg, had their first son
Rent-a-cop tried to tackle me,
Got kicked in the face
He got the bone
He got the bone!
Stole his fucking golf cart and
Bust through the glass
me, riding with several bitches with slim physiques
And I'm tryna see lights cameras action like Mr. Cheeks
Army fatigue bake boxes for the league
I'm the one-man army, Bun B
I've never been taken out
I keep emcees breaking out
I'm bringing real rap back and
Taking the faking out
I'm
full of army fatigue
Buckets and dirty Kostons
Flirtin' with the blunt before I lick it
She fillin' out her curves
And she can serve as an apprentice
like powder
Voice golden like a fucked shower
Sweet and sour
Hold up wait I may be just sour
I'm in my bag like a golf club
Reject all these bitches like
the reservation
Box full of drinks and lack of pavement
Hit the gas, no hesitation
Not a soul for miles
Just a bunch of coyotes
And an army of moths
Swear to God
city
Why you always wearing cargo pants
There's no army there my man
Selling me how Life is war and battles
Also everything you fathom
Fear will keep
Caney-Army hat nur Fans
Und all die Hater sind gebangt
Ich mach', dass die Straße bebt und Action mit der Walther-P
Du du bist nicht in meiner Gang
Golf ist jetzt weg
Vom Mercedes ersetzt, sag, wer redet noch schlecht ah
Hebt eure Hände, Rap-Rebell ist jetzt hier und es geht 1, 2, 3 zu der 4
Und
the Delaware, but your soldiers couldn't swim
That's Washington, such a shite tactician
The fucking British Army didn't even want him
I'm Wallace! And I'm
soft
My car seats so soft
These Heat Tags say "boss"
You ho niggas so soft
You ho niggas so soft
My car seats so soft
Your army so soft
Real
soft
My car seats so soft
These Heat Tags say "boss"
You ho niggas so soft
You ho niggas so soft
My car seats so soft
Your army so soft
Real
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