Lyrics:
lied on him on some fake shit (that shit crazy)
I finally saw 'em and I asked him how the case went
He said, they gave 'em fourty-seven years in
make it rain
So much money they think she's insane
You a 7 digit nigga if you holla at a brah
With a 7 digit figga you should come in by the bar
I'm
bitch daily afternoons
Stop by hair saloons, and make the sad bitch pay me
180, in the middle lane, I pop bottles
Expensive models, do they damn thang
go good
Midtown honey, nigga from the hood
But knock on wood, I got this bitch (what?) excuse me
She don't like to be called a bitch, try not
man, dope man (We just can't quit)
Dope man, dope man (Well suck this, bitch)
Wait a minute, wait a minute, who the fuck are you talking to?
Do you
go good
Midtown honey, nigga from the hood
But knock on wood, I got this bitch (what?) excuse me
She don't like to be called a bitch, try not
Noah's larks, good as no.
He was joulting by Wellinton's monument
Our rotorious hipppopopotamuns
When some bugger let down the backtrap of the omnibus
Well, I had two weeks of vacation time coming
After working all year down at Big Roy's Heating And Plumbing
So one night when my family the I were
by I got more plaques
Just to call from you tellin' me you miss me
And you wanna see me next time the tour's back, damn
Well what changed then?
She
steady baller block, can't take nothin from us
Young nigga, livin' a life surrounded by ice
Hoes be like, "Damn, them boys, they're nothin' nice"
They
steady baller block, can't take nothin from us
Young nigga, livin' a life surrounded by ice
Hoes be like, "Damn, them boys, they're nothin' nice"
They
might be the last day
And lucky you, on your last day
You gon' hear the Busta Rhymes album, you lucky bitch
Well it's the God (yes) no illusions
that fame, you might claim
Couldn't stand up by my rap name
You might be good, I don't care
I've been rapping like this 13 long years
I got more
years (Shut the fuck up!)
And I'm seven days sober, I swear on his life!
You're a mess, Carl
Okay, well, that's all the time we have.
Natalie, one
(well damn)
Yeah, uh
Real nigga, I don't say that a lot
You can tell how I talk and the way that I rock
I'm a straight shooter, no sugarcoat
No
Gave you the best
Best years of my life and I
Gave you a woman
Who stood by your side
Through all your ups and downs
Your rights and all your
man, dope man (We just can't quit)
Dope man, dope man (Well suck this, bitch)
Wait a minute, wait a minute, who the fuck are you talking to?
Do you
You and yo' home girl, a pimp couldn't get enough
You talk that shit like you weren't up in there just to fuck
Well, guess what? Now bitch you wit' us!
this money, it's under good management (Gucci)
'Bout to start rappin', I got more money than your manager (well, damn)
Broke bitch said we fucked, it
Yeah, it's Kells
Kells and o-j (ay ay)
Swag through the club throwin' money in the sky,
I can't lie, I'm a ball 'til I die,
Blunts of the good
If I was being honest
I'd say long as I could fuck three times a day and not skip a meal I'm good
I used to work on my feet for 7 dollars a hour
stars at seven
'I was a pimp' at ten o'clock, break till eleven
Future looks good for the smartest
Niggas in the school of Sir Break-A-Bitch College
Okay
more guys, sucked eight, nine men
I'm takin' two by fours, to our eight by tens
Bitch, it's you I tore, out the frame, I win
Put up a new high score,
insane
24/7 high, I will never change
Need my Vicadin, I need my Lortabs
I need a bad bitch with enormous ass
Every day I'm throwed my nigga
When you
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