Lyrics:
to be easy
I know that I'll make you tired
Some tell me you're slow and lazy
Some tell me you're so inspired
You wanted a long flirtation
Your plane
soon start to pour
As we shelter on Charles De Gaulle Street
The light it feels so strong
So I must close my eyes
The day it seems so long
It’s hard
to Michael Brown and mothafuck the police, bitch
I guess I got it sellin' nickel bags
I got it sellin' nickel bags
Real killer, drug dealer
I got it sellin'
outside the door
Come hear a tale of Halloween
And one October not long past
Jim Nightshade and Will Halloway
Would never be quite so young anymore
Fury,
of the torment/
Till inkling of performance, still thinking of us dormant/
cnd so it be, who hold close and kept dear/
were left there, won't know folks by next
My Ireland, you are the river rush
Always fluid in flux in need of a little hush
My Ireland is talking to itself
But so busy listening to Joe
It's
They got hit so bad, believe me
They never complained again"
Picture me soundin' like the
World wide mob figure
Whoo-riders this Syke, call me that
at the jaw,
You need to think twice before you get injured,
My infra red you will infer,
Plus I get paper without printers,
My money so long that it get
Pretty Brown
You're a stranger in the town
And your world has tumbled down
But there's a million wishing they were young as you
So let it go, just let it
was sure to go"
"The Distinguished Flying Cross upon Colonel Charles A. Lindberg"
"Panicked investors ordered their brokers to sell at whatever
Rollin' in a golden Tacoma, the shit's stolen
If that bitch tell on me, I'ma do a fuckin' drive-by in her colon
With my meat, gotta keep it obsolete
Writers: "Country" Johnny Mathis, V. Frank & George Jones
(Changed his name from Brown to Blue)
We stood there in the courthouse room
So close yet
to reality
Wake up in the morning by myself
So I'mma go hard 'til I got nothing left
'Cause I'mma die by myself, just like you, motherfucker
'Cause you ain't
luv
No hugs and being surrounded by Thugs
Chilln with my uncle and cousins out da mud
From Beaumont to Lake Charles Nigga it's all luv
From a young ass
This right here came from Mr. Charles its long and it ain't got Sears on it
Anytime I got a personal problem this the only homeboy I call
I wonder how
still
A long fight remember the Trayvon's and Emmit Till's
Little brown boy little brown boy tell me what you gonna do if dem come for you
Little brown
life on a dirty brown piece of Berber carpet.
Dick's dentures on the ground chattering.
His toupee being carried off by the squirrels
got purpose they can’t stop me I gaz focus on my dreams Where I came from there is no really income Everything we prayed for And on the long run, so
(yeah, yeah)
Long money, lil' nigga, I'm thinkin' 'bout ownin' shit (racks, racks)
Sold all them bricks in your raps
But you was broke and shit (ayy,
ground ground
Cut up in soul soul by the pound pound
I'm going downtown like Julie Brown I'm the round mound
Not a rebound but like a hound I get
Pussy so good, might fuck around and drown in it
Late night, long dick, Henny off the brown liquor
Pussy so good, might fuck around and drown in
before them.
For how long will the masses be so pathetically manipulated by God, Queen and Country?
*
For fucks sake where are we in all this?
We're
in a brown bottle
(Ooooh, ba-ba, ba-ba-dahhhhh)
Hennessy (Hennessy) hahaha, yeah
They wanna knows my role model, it's in a brown bottle
(Ooooh,
Fox Brown yeah, Jay-Z, what
I keep it fresher than the next, bitch
No need for you to ever sweat the next bitch
With speed, I make the best
Bitch see
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