Lyrics:
I want to know
Where did she go?
I'm in a limbo
Where did she go?
You left me Caribbean Blue
I've got the sunshine, but I haven't got you
at the Gabalfa interchange
Hang on a minute this is not a song about wanking
What's is about
It's a song about making a hip hop album innit
You got to do a rap
put on my rap album
Tryna chase the feelin'
Gotta fuckin' trap pack 'em
We got glass matchin' and I'm thinkin'
"How would that happen?"
Kid brings his
Meow-meow-meow-meow
We might have to sample that for the album
Hahaaaaa the cat album by the dog
Meow the Jewels meow-meow-meow-meow
Meow-meow-meow-meow
Sometimes at night my pants go to the bathroom by they self
Even when I was little, nothing went my way
I got beat up and chased home from school every day
good with no makeup, wake up, wait up, tryna eat the cake up
I don't want a summer fling
I want a forever thing
Happiness what she bring
Happiness what
am
Being attacked by your accusations simply
Because i got us
In court to help fix this the custody matter?
Why did i have to take you to court to see
Wanting to move on is innate
I'm at them gates
I got some things on my chest
They, haven't see me at my best
List of, things that I need to address
Goat
Yes
fuckin' with my name
Get up out my way
Music is what I breathe
I've been losing track of days
Pay ya' own bills
Even then fuck what you have to say
Haven't
'Babe, that's what I thought'
I'm ready to fucking go
Finna roast a bitch you already know
Make an album then I make my dough
I'm all the way up
figure out what's acceptable
The man behind the Cardigan, that album is impeccable
My niggas got the loud homie, if it's stressin' you
We lampin' in
What, you think I'm lookin' for romance 'cause I'm lonely?
Change that tune, you ain't got a remote chance to control me
Ho, I'm only vulnerable when I
'm hollerin', you got bottom-end like an 8-0-8
And I (base) whether we're fuckin' off that instead of your face so
Let your low-end raise, yo
Tango, what you
want to treat me fare
All this sleeping from house to house, fucking with my dome
Got two album of my own, but no home
So picture the park bench in
on my own just brick by brick
And you wanna talk this and that but the fact is you ain't done shit
Five songs to an 8 song album and I'm smoking this by
Smoke some, bitch, ha-ha, on some Devin the Dude type shit, you know what I'm saying
I'm blowed, mane, yeah
Mane, I'm so high
I haven't landed, yet
a simple smile
In our time is hard to come by
Still you got my back you'll run from miles
Well at least we still try
Oh brother oh sister oh father mother
What's up Playboy T, this is your girl Savy
Haven't heard from you in a minute, you must be in the studio laying those tracks
All I wanna know is,
feeling dumb
Everything's always somehow my fault
I'm done
You got what you want
I'm gone
Jump straight to the gun
And run
I'm pumped
This must be what it's
Listen to the voice of one of
The top Columbia recording stars
Listen to Aretha Franklin
Sure you haven't got the wrong number?
You're listening
me to be the smart type
Doesn't matter, I still build the hype
By dropping these albums and popping these Valiums
Tax evasion make me brave, just like
producers of this album
That would help me out when I got confused
And couldn't decide what beat to rhyme on or which verses I liked
My brother Mike,
out your heart
Haven't got a lot
But play the part
Mister stop! stop! stop!
Get out your heart
What I've got's hot stuff
The night is ours
'ma take what I want, so
You tried to front
Hope you got yourself a gun
You ain't real, hope you got yourself a gun
My first album had no
Famous guest
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