Lyrics:
up and send them back to the pit of hell
Anywhere i enter the sickness must feel me
Two hands down I beat the sickness like it is wrestling
Next I
Sittin' by the riverbank, sun reflectin' off the blue
Thought I had the perfect catch, but he slipped right through
Felt the line go slack in my
The year is 1975 (yeah)
Brooklyn, New York City (stand up)
A child destined for greatness is born (we goin' in)
Let's go
Get your hands in
Money and power
Works hand in hand
When you have money
You can control
And now
I need you to rise
Pick up the fight
And shine
2 am men no pinging
Ebe
a number, your first hand favoured well
You called another, but luck was turning, I dealt and then you fell
You make up cute, make us the fool
You're blonde,
at seven sorry urchins with their back against the wall
Taking up the street (warm November heat)
At brunch you nearly were accosted by a maniac in rags
No
and my temper is sprung
Ass to the floor even the strippers is lit
Cash from the sky I witness the shit
Break out the brooms mop up the bills
Stuffing her
the house without my money rag
I don't leave the house
Without my fuckin' Glock
I'm not goin' like Biggie or Pac
That's fucked up what they did to Biggie
I
Is bitches too!
I knew this brother named Mitch
Stone player
He meet a girl, in five min. he lay her
Trucked crazy jewels
Hands smothered in ice
Been
She'd probably leave you standing with your hands out
Now they got they hands up
I'm the illest hands down
Now they got they hands out
Ricky Bobby they
said we are being chased by the boys in blue
Adam's with me and we know what to do
We'll meet up with Xain and Eggsy by the Baneswell Express
Then we can
Be still, I'ma be still, I'ma be still know that You God, I'ma listen up
Here I am, open heart, hands lifted up Be still, I'ma be still, I'ma be
Yeah yeah
Blaze one for the nation
Brr
Brr
Brr
I got lyrics that wake up spirits
They told me how to make big hits and spend digits
Can
hand her a hunnid (What's that)
That's not enough to get a
Bra outta Banana Republic (Broke nigga)
Say, big nuts and a bigger heart
You a scrub in these
We'll just shoot you up
Its blood on all our hands
Its blood on all our hands
Its blood on all our hands
In a world of sin
Where they honor greed
spark, on the streets of New York
I Shaolin strut through the city asphalt, fed up
Hold ya head up, I'm circlin the block, keep ya eyes up
Wise up
the reason why
the smoke be comin up out the chow, with my nigga Pac
Dear God, can you forgive me? My future's lookin sick
I'm in my rag hittin switches
to makin' music up all night
Like, like can you feel me? I put passion in my lyrics
It's just me and you from rags to riches hoppin' in the urus
Let my lyrics
to go home / Chorus (sung by the cast) Time to go home Norman Time to go home Norman Hey Mistuh Papuh-mon Time to go home Chasin' illusions can get
saggin
Rag top in the top down doon buggy on greenwood
You got a receipt boy? Mr. herd said to the blood
Yellow school bus rolled up with a space for
Have you seen the old man, in the closed-down market
kicking up the papers, with his worn-out shoes?
In his eyes you see no pride, hands held loosely
And the answers were gone
From hand to hand
Wrist to the elbow
Red blood sand
Could Dad be God
Crosses cross hung out like a wet rag
Forgive you? Why?
Yamborginis in my dreams rIP to ASAP Yams
King disguised by the world
All these blessings in my hands ay
We grinding to the bag
We rocking designer rags
What
Bundles activate
Sapa deactivate
Doings up to date
Azaman activate
Racks on racks Louis Vuitton not rags on rags
Stacks on stacks Phyno level that's bags
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