Lyrics:
seven days a week
Money, we count it 'cause that's
The routine to us
If the bitch got a paper planе by her bed
That mean that shе fuck with Khalifa
think
I can feel it dangling, it's throbbing and it's veiny
Wait I think I got it, okay bitch I got you, Robin Williams hanging
Go hang in the lobby
fuckin' rocket, bitch, I'm 'bout to go take off" (take off)
Bitch, I'ma fly my own PJ, fuck you mean?
Top flight security of the world, Craig
Goofy-ass
to know and the first to cry.
our summer years are nothing
as they're Freudian-slipping by
it would have been nice to be someone.
to have and to hold
had that Lexus no
Our friendship don't go back that far
Tyler slept on my sofa yeah
Niggas go back that far
I ain't smoked all year
This the last
Had to try tempting the fates
One little band spinning 'round together
Couldn't cling forever
God, I think I'm losing my mates
Seven good years
to show a nigga (yeah)
Bitches tried to go big, I fucked around and showed 'em bigger (bitch)
Four story, seven-figure crib, somewhere on a villa (brrt)
and they took me back
Had no friends for to go my bail
They slapped my dried up carcass in the county jail
Got up next morning about a half past nine
I
hands I was dealt
When I said the music business was all I needed
When I got it I was greeted by an alien
That said last year that she slept with
Cruiser, yellow 'Lac on rims
Drop yellow 'Vette and a platinum Rolls Royce
That's seven different cars, everyday I got a choice
On my way to pick up
Cruiser, yellow 'Lac on rims
Drop yellow 'Vette and a platinum Rolls Royce
That's seven different cars, everyday I got a choice
On my way to pick up
[Snoop Dogg]
Nigga you need to stop snitchin!
All that yip-yappin and jaw-jackin
Nigga if you scared, go to church
You knew the job was
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly 'til you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now that's real
What
doin' nothin' suspicious, know that bitch be glistenin'
Bitch inspire me, get more money and I go out to get it
Bitch massagin' me 'cause she know I'm
of us got seven flows
I'ma get it in just by the load
All three of us went shoppin'
Seven hundred thousand all on clothes (let's go) (Keed talk to 'em)
to the, T-S an'
Y'all niggaz in the mix, keep guessin'
The world traveler in the flesh without question
Last seven years on tour without restin'
Yo
on the bitch major quick
Busted me a quickie out of the door I'm ready to go
Steadily creeping from the back was a bitch with the mac
Put the chopper to my
Oh! Tell ya I got so disgusted now
Yeah
Said I'll go back home and sleep some more
Now that seem like the right thing to do
But by
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Woah, oh
Time flies by when you doing what you wanna do
Years go by when you doin what you wanna do
I been on the move, island hopping
relations
Nice, ATM, I'm Captain-
Captain Quentin Thomas, forty-seven years old, top of his class graduation
Proficient in terminal execution via
young Emily was fair lady bright
she loved her diver boy
who sailed over the ocean to
gather up some gold
seven long years returning
his money for
The general a criminal do low
Admit 'cause I'm wit it then I spit it and lit it
Niggaz timid in my vision I cause tension and thinkin'
By my presence I'm
and it's
Just hiding my misguiding thoughts that I'm trying to kill
And I'd be writing my will before I'm twenty seven, I'll die from a thrill
Go down in
blowing up my pager, the shit's gettin major
A favor for a favor, this dick is what I gave her
Something to go by and bitches know why
Stuff dick in they
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