Lyrics:
Every alarm and I'm doing harm to all of the people that doubt me
In the lab working till past three, clean records but the beats are nasty
I'm coming for
Reporter:
Police search for clues on the Q 111
Bus where two people were shot, one fatally
Witness 1:
You heard like a few shots ring out and uh
You
the 9 respect the 9
If you live by the 9 well then you die by the 9
If you live by the 9 we'll then you die by the line
Yea there ain't no safety for
him by the reigns because I know that I'm freaking
Well, I'm a funky skull and I'm a scorpio
And when I get my flow I'm dr on the go
So q-tip, what
(q-tip)]
So what's the deal are you gay or poppin' pills?
Why you still wanna take my hand?
This discotech is 'bout to make me a wreck
My feet are
need you right here by my side
Damn ya fine
Im gripping ya thigh
You need to be mine baby
Just off ya silhouette
But you aint even mine yet
Its Mr. Nasty
just because you know
I got it it's because of me that
We're eating right up in this bitch don't
Stretch it by asking for a lawyer
And shit" That's
back to the thing
Shia Labeouf
Kid Cudi feels a way give him a call
Q Tip, I love you, bruh don't tell
Me how to be me though, i love you the
Tribe album
Just clean the house and that's it
Get me aroused and that's it
Take off your blouse and that's it
Don't make a sound and that's it (yeah)
Just let
Hurdd juu want smoke (Huh) Pass the cig
Pussy you can Die here like dread tips (For Real)
Q Smitty wat you on bro (Not Shit)
You know we just wanna ball
was searchin for a towel to clean off my dickie
'cause it was kinda wet all bloody and sticky.
? And to talk about gross here's something sicker
sending down by the P
Gotta hunnid round drac gonna sweep da streets
Sanitation coming through to clean
I'm baby lungs im in this bitch I got two sticks I
got, and I'll take everything
It's mine (yeah)
And you ain't getting it back
I work so hard for these jewels this house the yacht
Cash out, before I
freeze and drop when Lil Wheezy cock
And niggas be like Q-Tip 'cause they breath and stop
Believe or not, the ki's ten G's a wat
Until I die apple
jeans.
Sweaters coats and shirts in starch, they all come clean.
But I really hate to do my laundry. I hate that dirty nasty laundry.
I never had no good
being driven towards a
Destiny that's to wards
It takes ours to come for
It takes hours to comfort
The last song, it's rush hour
A drum roll by
Darth Vader
Pull up to your crib, nigga, like a good neighbor
Pay the bill, leave a tip for the waiter
Oh you got me? I'll pay you later (Sike!)
What's
the ceiling, yeah
I got burners in the basement
Money in the mattress
Yo look at their faces, taste it
Yeah I'm nasty right
But my bapes so clean and white
Look
on the narrow road
Ayo, that's it from me, Plug 3, and Ali explode!
Verse 3: Q-Tip
When I rhyme, the effect just ripples
You sound sick, I hope your cells get
off the straight and I roll
When you slip, hollow tips are sharper than an arrow
Bout to swang by that sun, is wait for me be right back
I'ma roll
Shia LaBeouf
Kid Cudi feels a way give him a call
Q Tip, I love you, bro don’t
Tell me how to be me
Though i love you the Tribe
Album is dope i love you
motherfuckin' boy, Mr. Q-Tip
Loc back in the booth, sippin' goose and juice
And this time, bitch, I'm goin' for broke, still slangin' caine
Bagging weed, will
people just applied for apartments and got 'em
used to be rules to this game of hustlers and dealers
from Tommy guns to MAC Tens it's Q.B.'s newborn
the ammo of an F-14, what up, Fits
Chillen kickin' mean for the fiends in the cockpit
Palm gripped on the greens, givin' you a hot tip
Q tip for your ears,
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