Lyrics:
Anybody got any special requests for us to do
John Henry?
Lemme do John Henry then and we'll go...
Johnny Henry's pappy woke him up one midnight
He
are colder than Sweden
So Boy Better Know that it’s gun season
Don't think I'm wearing gloves for no reason
Kill Devilman and dump him in Neasden
My
everything I made the bitch confess
Ran a train on his bitch nigga polar express
All that boy do is run his mouth he don't touch checks
All she got is good
don't need no help
Money don't make itself
Money don't make itself
Grindin all by myself
I’m grindin all by myself
Cuz Money don't make itself
Cuz Money
Buller
Everybody wants to be a ruler
No wanting to take it inch by inch but could you appreciate it if it happened in a sinch
At the drop of a dime
to finish giving his penances
Said "I don't mean to be rude, but I was raised as a Christian
And now I don't believe in God, but oh my god, my friends
the loaf, don't follow, be a leader
Spit that crack, I spit that coke
Man life ain't a joke
He want some cancer, give 'em smoke
Money longer than some rope
Just like a spine bitch I'm back in this bitch
Boy if you lie that's a slap on the wrist
Say that I be on that pacifist shit
But right to your face
way to school, I'll be watching you
Big, big daddy in his caddy with all of his boys
It only had weeks, it's a joy
That's the first part, second part
boy
I want to count 2 three
I want you 2 break it down and do that Dunkie funkie
Yo, are you ready?? 1...2...3...
Get buck wild!!!
Submitted by
skeleton key
But don’t you to wanna be a inspiration to me?
In an instance a child's life was ended
By the hands of a four foot menace like Dennis
Johnny P, Elite Squad
Rob, Don, Anthony Bond
Junior, Ken from Monicas
My first partner, Ian Khan
Mr Q, Butch Lee
Mc J and Cool G
B-Kool, Jellystone
Main
humpin', Hank thumpin', country bumpkin
Country boy, country girl, thank God I'm a country boy
Long-haired country boy and I'm out here in the country
face
Boy I can't even hop on the beat if I don't make cake
Know I stay with 5 and he shootin' on mayday
Claim she want a rich nigga but she don't even
johnny
Tell that boy he can get jacked like sparrow uh
I'm getting money dinero
Baby my pockets so fat lil terrio
Everyone k and I don't give a fuck
Goofy
I'm stuffed with pastries and drunk with power
Now they're puttin' up my statue by the Eiffel Tower
A little more to the left, boys, a little more
run the bag, yo niggaa
And we got what these niggas ain't got
We got money
(Boy, you know you don't want no smoke)
And we got what these niggas ain't
on me
(All eyes are watching)
Just a young buck tryna come up
I can be a nice one, I can be a rude one
I can be an icon
Living the life of a dreamer
a rough day
I think I would be latching
Id rather
Write a song
Than be rude
Im a happy boy cuz I write my sad songs
Otherwise I dont
know how to deal
England
Bad boys him ah take on
Rude boys inna Kingston (yo, yo)
I wake up and I stare at the ceiling
I'm alive what a beautiful feeling
I should be
walk in)
Walk into the spot and run it like I'm Chris Breezy (brrt)
Sweater by the Gallery, I think the kicks Yeezy (Yeezy)
Talk about some Johnny
the reason you won't be around to win with me
I don't pay attention to people trying to judge my life
Cause I know none of them could live it
They way too big
him say and it haunts me night and day
Don't make me go to bed and I'll be good
Our lives have just been gladdened by his bright ascending beam
Our boy
by the way
I was with it by the way
I talk it like I did it
Cause I lived it by the way
[Verse 1]
Young, the boy might go nuts
Holes in niggas
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