Lyrics:
I have to hit
Whatever I aim at
I line 'em up
Ya body is weak, feel with pain
That time is up
You been hit with somethin'
Different, isn't it?
Rakim
God telephone man like it's New Edition
Turn yo block to the auto show we get to stabbing chargers
Slide down and get to drumming like I'm Travis Barker
I want it you know that I have to go find it
Sun or the snow fuck the climate yeah yeah
Trunkie the wave can you ride it
I said Trunkie the wave can
Don't give a fuck, no I can't spare one nigga
No I do not have five wheels, I can't spare one nigga
Talkin' like I'm on the last cigarette
'Cause I had
whoot
Ca-rip
Is I, in the motherfuckin' S-5
With the red bandanna double knotted 'round the rear view
Niggas see clear through, they know that it's
me
Girl we could do better
We could do better
I mean you could do better
Better with me
Do you love it when I need a lil more of you
When I can
and they're prepared to pursue it
Get us then we drills 'em
Having plenty thrills, I'm Wellington New Zealand banging her with a chest like Wendy Williams
at the cops like
I never heard of Jakes
I been pumpin D, since days of humpty
They can make a million dollars
Just bein' my flunky
I got a set of soldiers that
fake tea
Can't be rappin' 'bout no rattin' that we can't read
I mean it's true a nigga slimed me for my AP
Just like how Metro nigga slimed him for
He wanted to shine at the swap meet
Til the white boys got him in that hot seat
I only love it when her hair long
You should listen to this beat
twist
Gucci on the hip, butta Lucci on the wrists
And we off glass, we glistenin', you listenin
I got that new shit like William holla
You thinking
I have to hit
Whatever I aim at
I line 'em up
Ya body is weak, feel with pain
That time is up
You been hit with somethin'
Different, isn't it?
Rakim
spiritual essence
And he goes by the name of, uh
Hood
Check your rhyme, punk that ass or get got, F it (shit)
I lick buckshots, Hood, madman, I rip up
I'm sippin da wok
She give me the box
I'm eating the box
Drip, splash
Word to Walka
Beat that shit up like a drum
Travis Barker, Peter Parker
Shoot that
a mysterious place
And it is said that if you're born within the sound of Bow-Bells
You have the necessary qualifications to be christened a Londoner
[It
terror
Till man I get mine till I'm dead, so I can drive sumpthin red
Like that horse standing on it's hind legs
Since arnold and willis in they bunk
matter what you always looked out for me
And i love you but i know that you ain't happy
Another blow to the face its almost everyday
just like always
they don't like it, got a knob that they can slob on until
Wait I just forgot what I was thinking
What's it called again? I'm blanking
The thing above
like im Travis Barker imma keep on drummin
When I take it easy would you be there in the mornin
Got a getaway to get my mind off all the touring
We can
Travis Scott
Rockstar like Travis Barker
Take off, took a shroud
I'm on costumigo, it's
I call it Cosmo
I caught the ox right on that ass
Smilin' like
of them have paws)
William Shakespeare's in my cat
He chases bits of fluff
John Milton's in my goldfish
But I never liked his stuff
I'm thinking that Franz
why dem love him off so much
Like what is the reason? Oh
It's just the vibe, I'm that guy (oh, it's just the vibe)
She put her legs in the sky
in my life there was only asbestos, and Raymond Williams, you always took the best ones.
Now, like failed pedestrian dreams, that's how it seems
'm riding around with my pockets crammed
You the one that got the contraband
And you smokin that like you in Amsterdam
Before I know it I see them sirens
I
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