Lyrics:
Gotta get radical these days
Gotta let the world know
That you're saved
Gotta get radical with your praise
Living in the last days (last days)
I
them down by the railroad track
Stealin' a train to haul it back
They're in the jailhouse now
up, " Nicki says
Standing up to count the votes
No one moves "All in favor of ‘All Eyes on
You'?" She is persuasive
Making hip-hop work in the pop world
But I ain't tryna shoot it with you rappers, I'll just shoot it at your dame
Y'all never should have threw me in the game
Found a new word for weed,
We’re so furiously dangerous
Furiously dangerous
Furiously dangerous
Furiously dangerous
Furiously dangerous
Death by lyrical injection
I kill you
all begins
Now he waiting in the wings and Porters calling out his name
Believe
You can fly you can sing
Take a leap spread your wings
still takin rappin for a joke
A passing hope, or a phase with the rope
Sometime I choke and try to believe
When I get challenged by a million MC's
I
on tracks you should know if you get in my way that I never let up
There's some people that need to hear truth they get beat down by lies and get told that
in the lac on the dlo
We can do it in the track wit a peep hole
See you lookin' at the ass
We do it for the cash
I throw it like craps in the clo
to eight
You know I can't say her name but she was a looker
Pretty thing, such a shame how this life has took her
Now she's raising hell in the cell, no
gotta be the only motive
Mind racing on and off the track, I'm going locomotive
I can't believe you don't like Tarantino
Ugh, I don't like him because,
rock on)
We keep going
Nigga breath can tell by how you rap you don't believe
Ain't hungry no mo' so off me you feed
I hustle at a speed between
rock on)
We keep going
Nigga breath can tell by how you rap you don't believe
Ain't hungry no mo' so off me you feed
I hustle at a speed between
Offensive coordinator hater, I read traps
These niggas need naps, they bitches got weave naps
Believe that fuck with my a seeds and you'll get seized,
eating shrimps, locing with some real pimps (yeah).
So peep game, best believe I love my peeps
that's why I make the type of music you can pump in your
on a mill, but I'm pimpin still
Riding round the track, like Goldie in the Mack
Still I'm Don Coreleone pimping hoes from my realm
Mesmerized by the words
broke too many times, I might slang some dimes (back to trappin')
You believe corporations runnin' marijuana? (How that happen? Ooh)
And your country
express how I feel
If I ain't rich by twenty-six, I'll be dead or in jail
Comin up I heard sippin to much booze'll leave you confused
And if you watch
believe in me?
I'm comin back for all them niggaz who be thievin me
I'm incredible, also edible
Rock it in the stage show, see me in
I'm saying, the vet, not the pet
Dig this here man
Like my nigga Cashball, you know what I'm saying, me and DeAnte say
Man, it's "stacks, tracks
everywhere
so take me home
(to my empty refridgerator)
c'mon and take me home
(to a life in which I understand) (where you at y'all?)
so take me home
(to my
of the Year" and figured I was on track
This nigga Pat' been in my ear talkin' 'bout rhymin' on tracks
So after practice we record and then we got it on wax
know it's true
I'm the mack and the (?) from the big Oak Town
Laying track by track that vicious sound
All you sucker MC's hating my face
Even though
The fence is too high to jump in jail
Too low to dig, I might just touch hell, hot
Get a life, now they on sale
Then I might cast you a spell
Look at what
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