Lyrics:
style
The kinda jam that used to make you smile
The kinda thang that made ya mama go wild
Third great white boy - 24 mile
Keep it squeaky clean mop & glo
a newer version
I want downloadable suicide
Version I don't know
Version I don't point know
Version I don't point no
Version I point the gun at me oh
Oh
!"
She said "Cool" and then proceeded to eat me
Ate me up till my body was squeaky clean
Must have been a sex fiend
Like the freaks in the magazines
Poked
the tectonic plate shift I
Create is so great
That by the time you reach me the earthquakes
The booth was my birthplace
I'm used to the static
They say I got
skies above, sun on your arms
Strength in your stride and hope in those squeaky-clean eyes
(Hope in those squeaky-clean eyes)
You'll get chilly
skies above, sun on your arms
Strength in your stride and hope in those squeaky-clean eyes
(Hope in those squeaky-clean eyes)
You'll get chilly
got my cheese my pen & paper
it's time for me here to prepare my caper
I written it down the line & now a ring is on my phone
it's my nigga Spigg
song
Me, Squeaky, Flex and J, on Saratoga Street
Smokin white boys, bumpin dopefiend beats
Eighty-eight, my pockets wasn't straight, but I was makin
cheese my pen and paper
It's time for me here to prepare my caper
I written it down the line and now a ring is on my phone
It's my nigga Spigg Nice, he
be my last song
Me, Squeaky, Flex and J, on Saratoga Street
Smokin' white boys, bumpin' dopefiend beats
Eighty-eight, my pockets wasn't straight,
to pass it on
Two years ago, I thought it'd be my last song
Me, Squeaky, Flex and J, on Saratoga Street
Smokin white boys, bumpin dopefiend beats
the bossman in the suit with no tie
I can't be sober, I gotta stay high
Pour me some syrup in a Canada Dry
Ridin' in the spaceship like Bonnie and Clyde
summin' special wit ya back side
Put ya booty into rehab (Why?) 'cause ya back high
I back by 2 women drinkin' some Ackrite
She rolled up and gave me
They ain't believe me
I whip that beam like it's Cena Houdini you can even see me
Nothing for free, this shit too easy
Bih we is clean, bih we is
So I'm squeaky clean in and out of the bath
I never shaved so close before
I'm gonna put on a tie
I'm gonna shine up my shoes
I'm gonna slick back
as they worked up a sweat
It wasn't even ten o'clock yet
Scrub down, then I get moist, they never treat me mean
They sweetly keep me squeaky clean
I
the version they wanted to see go and call me the snyder cut
I mean I just might erupt, all you dudes looking kinda sus
Got so many badges so whether these
Putting in work no suit and tie but I still get money like a boss
Couple people call me Young Adams to some others I'm Mr. YA
Out in space so deep inhaling
the new boyz
I'm sayin
I'm sayin
Yeah
Talkin bout she aint gon tie me down
Look at me now
So deep in love
You wouldn't believe me
With my girl
Conversations
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
diamonds, tennis chain 'round my throat (icy)
Got a bad habit of lookin' behind me 'cuz in my city it's smoke
I got PSD, my house on PST, I live by EST
Put ya booty into rehab (Why?) 'cause ya back high
I back by 2 women drinkin' some Ackrite
She rolled up and gave me the sack, tie a back tie
That
Malcolm X Boulevard and Gates Avenue
Smokin' up the fat trey bags with the crew
Me and the niggas Troy and Squeaky
Used to twist Dutch Masters, we got
Niggas, Cambodians
Or go against the police
Thugged Out like Napolean
Grab the milli, from my belly, catch new welly
Slugs in your Pelle Pelle, smell me
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