Lyrics:
club sound
Now put your peepers on me
Your eyes ain't on Jesus, leave it on Lee
Jimmy that is, from the Carolinas
Where corrupt police don't care about
they accumulate
Like it was dribbling, trying to get rich
Took a trip, got jet lagged
From Berlin, worked with Travis Scott
Paper on me, look like
motherfuckin killas)
He's a killa off Dayton Avenue, he's quick to point that glock at you
I catch you and I dead you, I got you if I shot at you
Runnin for
like to keep it real
When a man's broke he's got his hand on the trigger
But if his pockets got figures he ain't sweating the next nigga
I like a nigga
go ahead and make a play to break away, I'm playin' in the hay. (Everyday, day day day)
Say What?
Humpty Dumpty done fell from grace, cause he ain't
rods
Barely see me when it's sunny I pop out when it's dark
See where I'm from they ain't expect me to make it far
But I give her rich nigga vibes
I got
times
Breathe
That's beautiful
Ronnz from Berlin and shit, hardcore cat
Blaze your weed to this
This is dedicated to my homeboy Walter Jefferson
the rhythm I'm lending
The message I'm sending from London to Linley
Girls are given a chance to get ya all pampered
Leave them ol' cramps in your pants
we got to give
The gift of being honest wasn't always for the rich
I'm all about the matrix, but I'm not about to glitch
I got the hits by the blitz,
political my scales were never digital
I'm a normal cat from Irving, TX with no pedestal
I just know consistency as much as I know quality
Dranny would be
the nigga, I try to get
a nigga tracks; he ain't hearin my shit. Man for real.
Man my four-year-old son can rap better than that nigga;
man that nigga garbage.
from being a slave in your mind, you're very welcome
You tell me my song is more than a song, it's surely a blessing
But a prophet ain't a prophet till
Musical rhythms can fuck wit ya head")
Original recipe but not from Kentucky
Bunch of nilla ass niggas
Throwin' bolos like Rocky
Pass the ism and watch
hoes gone back door
Free game lame nigga I could tell ya how it go
Uh Got it by default
It ain't my fault I could smash your hoe
Niggas beefing with me
we from the same place
Four-hundred and twenty-one murders, ain't tryna be of the same fate
If I die and go to heaven, will I make it through
Got you counting from on to ten
And by the time you get up to nine, your ass is left behind
Cause you can't mess with the lyrical master rhymes
Send
We've got a chemistry
But baby it ain't love
I love you poppy
No baby this ain't Love
I love you poppy
No baby this ain't Love
We both know the deal
and adopted
By the streets but the
Gift he brought with him to this world
Will effect our outlooks on not only
Rap music but on life as well, forever
Forever
myself lit
Pistol by the pelvis, King of Pop Michael
Niggas fallin' off like Niagara swearin' they hard no Viagra
Aye, pause dat, ain't come to play I get
on cardboard in the dirt
Chorus
He’s the mayor of Market Avenue
Not a politician and his skills are few
He got a heart of gold, that you can tell
He ain’t got
team winning
Been going in for so long
I got to keep the rhythm
Paralyzed to fake shit I swear to
God that ion feel em
Shuffle man had likes it's poker
She said come on, and we got in the car
Took a little trip to a fancy bar (What?)
Got some gin, some juice, some coke
I tell ya, my nigga, this ain't no
gonna change, I'ma stay the same
Even when I hit a mil', I ain't ever gonna change, I'ma stay the same
My bro got done got the packs, he been dealin'
I
want to us)
(And that we won't retaliate?)
Protect my motherfuckin' self, by any means necessary (right)
'Cause you don't know me, I don't know you
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