Lyrics:
the radio handle the truth? Nope
Uncut, no edits, no censors
You can get a plastic rapper from any old dispenser
A penny a yard, to make a record ain't
He's a rich man living in a poor man's house
Every night at home, feels like it's Christmas Eve
And Gracie's got his dinner on the stove, Daddy's
nights
And everything I had to know
I heard it on my radio
You gave them all those old time stars
Through wars of worlds invaded by Mars
You made
could make it to Cheyenne or Amarillo by morning (by the morning)
Man, she feels like a woman
Like I heard her on the radio
Driving down that red dirt
On the limb cut down in the middle of the night caught in a trap
Cursed by the crown of the wandering man who was never coming back
Stuck
here with me got that smoke
Every girl in here gotta look me up and down
All on Instagram, cake by the pound
Circulate the image every time I come
Sunday mornin', man, she woke up fightin' mad
Bitchin' and moanin' on and on 'bout the time I had
And by Tuesday, you could say that girl was good
at the cover
Oh come on in closer baby
Hear what else I gotta say
You got your radio turned down too low
Turn it up
You can't judge sugar by looking
at the cover
Oh come on in closer baby
Hear what else I gotta say
You got your radio turned down too low
Turn it up
You can't judge sugar by looking
ain't stoppin me dawg
Only time you left ya hood is on Monopoly boards
You grimey as birds shittin on the top of ya fords
You will, die by the gun
Down at the corner by a hot-dog stand
I seen a man, I said, 'howdy friend'
I guess there's just us two
He screamed a bit and away he flew
Thought I was
too much though
I know I look funny
Down at the corner by a hot-dog stand
I seen a man, I said, "Howdy friend
I guess there's just us two"
He
Cirikidzing
It's Q-tip
Don't have lotta time, man, I really gotta move man
She's waitin' for me now, man, don't wanna blow the move, man
'Cause you know
untouched by the man
Songs we used to sing used to mean something
Now they just bland like the drummer
Where's the real drummer? Michael B.
Mint
top
Sittin' right there in the middle by me
I was thinkin' 'bout a long kiss
Man, just gotta get goin'
Where the night might lead
I know what I was
on the way
These are my confessions
Man I'm throwed and I don't know what to do
I guess I gotta give you part two of my confessions
If I'm gonna tell it,
the Christmas tree don't mean shit to me
You're kicking me out? It's fifteen degrees
And it's Christmas Eve, "Little prick, just leave"
Ma, let me grab my
Tommy got off at the Texaco
Came bustin' in to Norma's Cafe
Said come on man we gotta go
You know how those party girls hate to wait
Filled up
Formica floors
Shoes by Jimmy Chu's and Michael Core's
Fuck Thelma and Louise, it's Trina and Eve (uh, yeah)
Hook
(Eve)
I'm not a regular bitch, I
when im in business
i make it i spend it i wake up in Jaimaca
Italy and Finland im finish
(Explicit-Edit)wit you (Explicit-Edit)
who aint about
is foolish, that was my views
I'm back at it, the rap addict, by any means
We gon' get these stacks accurate, no skinny jeans
Say he ain't a star,
house, it's straight up the road
And I was the man of the house, the oldest
So my shoulders carried the weight of the load
Then Nate got taken away by
killed the radio star
I got the talking blues
Talking blues is easy to do
All you gotta do is rhyme a line or two
Rhyme a line or two and then
You
untouched by the man
Songs we used to sing used to mean something
Now they just bland like the drummer
Where's the real drummer? Michael B.
Mint
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