Lyrics:
bad? I am, my dad raised one hell of a man
At eleven I had to throw on the pants
Still don't feel appreciated and not by my own fam
All good, I'll be
don't want to scare you
I don't want to do you any harm
But you've got your finger on the trigger
And you're about to set off my alarm
You oughta
we love
I got my dawgs by my side
Call me gifted
Cause all my words come wrapped in bows
I'm a package deal, I won't go without my bro's
Ysl on the bag
niggas, 'cause I got boys that's gon' crash out
See, drive up on your block, do the drive-by, and then smash out (skrrt)
Whip it up in the kitchen, no
Juan Wick
I'm On this heater joint fat like sausage fingers
Voice hoarse as Doc, it's not Blake's fault Liam Neeson we re starting
Penalty box for
and body action
My finger's on the clit splashing
Your pussy lips got you spazzing
Love juices, marinating in your satins
Sexy ass, I gets 'em like my
your house
Like Alpha Beta Gamma i’m creeping
Got a dorm something decent
Fuck a fist fight the shells bubble
If it's beef got the desert double
Still
still
Then all of a sudden, in the wink of an eye
A Cadillac sedan passed us by
I said boys that's the mark for me
But by then the taillights was
really feel them
That's why I'm still in the
'jects and I got millions
We lost souls headed for hell
The cross roads
Genocide, don't care if I die
Nigga my
thoughts consumed
By the pa**ion, slow jam tunes and body action
My finger's on the clit splashin', your p**** lips
Got you spazzin', love juices,
In the County Tyrone, near the town of Dungannon,
Where many the ructions meself had a hand in.
Bob Williamson lived, a weaver by trade,
And all
might be your man, i said
Can we vibin , baby
You ain't gotta push
yourself, i got it
Everyday i'll be
around by yourside
Waitin, wastin my time
Hold up,
know how they allowed it
The funny thing about it, through all the excitement
They Range got towed, they double parked by a hydrant
Stupid motherfuckers
Griselda, by Fashion Rebels
Haha, the devil's reject, nigga conway
See, that's that's the fuck is
Wrong with you niggas
You little niggas hard
the calendar design
Wilderness tours, guided for and by the blind
Cool ruler standing still sweating through the shades
He knew those lights only grew bright
Uh, you know I still run with that, that blood of a slave
Boiling in my veins
It's just hot until a nigga can't take it no more
Blood of a slave,
you'll die yup
And niggas get tied up for product
And little brothers ring fingers get cut up
To show mothers they really got 'em
And this was
On a desert highway
I am struck by my own rage
Time-bomb in his palm a finger-apple
Augments this advanced shackling
Girl you got to find you the man who
something man
So at that point what else could you ask for?
Tears running down a nigga face
In a room full of failures I feel out of place
Still
your fingers and clap your hands
Our DJ's better than all these bands
Huh
We got all the lines and all the rhymes
We don't drop dimes and we don't
Meghan joy
Man we need a different view
Education in our nation should
Be school choice
Let the girls be the girls boys be the boys
I'm the Blake Shelton
Uh, you know I still run with that, that blood of a slave
Boiling in my veins
It's just hot until a nigga can't take it no more
Blood of a slave,
go, I can't be faded
Happy in the motherfucker, finally made it
Got my money in my pocket, finger on the trigger
And I ain't takin' shit from no
gone as far as asking if I could get with her
I just play love by ear and hope she gets the picture
I'm shooting for her heart, got my finger
.jpg/241px-Blake_Shelton_July_2017_(cropped).jpg "Blake Shelton"){kind=spacer}
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