Lyrics:
can't be too wrong
Ms. Jackson my intentions were good I wish I could
Become a magician to abacadabra all the sadder
Thoughts of me, thoughts of she,
it with art
And Jimy did it with sound
But, by all these men, it was found
Each and every person can be just as renowned
Don't let the world's racist
it with art, and Jimy did it with sound
But, by all these men, it was found
Each and every person can be just as renowned
Don't let the world's racist
The shit on her wrist gon be all ice
And we gon fight thru the hard times
I hope these niggas ain't on the wrong side
This is my time
This is my time
is right
Never do this chilling always on the couch, on the chart
You gotta work it out
I was told by many of my spouse
Let me in homie, gotta work,
clanky
God thank ye, motherfuckers actin' cranky
Stanky, attitudes be janky
I think he, gon' hafta feel the sting from the rang on my panky
You ain't
a nickel
Wacka wacka doo-doo yeah
Well, let me tell you, people, it wasn't long at all before my dream came true
Because the very next day, a local
The shit on her wrist gon be all ice
And we gon fight thru the hard times
I hope these niggas ain't on the wrong side
This is my time
This is my time
of that gots to go
Now everybody knows there's exceptions to this rule
Now don't be getting mad, when we playing, it's cool
But don't you be calling out my
and the power, they be in here watchin' Power
All my shooters accurate, codeine like a daiquiri
Run up, run up in your factory, mask is on like Michael Jackson
clanky
God thank ye, motherfuckers actin' cranky
Stanky, attitudes be janky
I think he, gon' hafta feel the sting from the rang on my panky
You ain't
feeling popular
But I needed my space like it's Andromeda
You know, please, don't, nah
You knew what this was, you knew what it was before we talked
I put
to be a playa
Bag them by the twos I broke the clock by doing layups
And bitch you you on my time so when i'm talking don't you say nothing
When the time
and keep mines on the uprise
But it don't work cause I'm steady getting jerked
By my neighborhood up to no good where bad niggas lurk
The urk me leaving
up on me
You stayed by my side
You my ride or die girl
I gave you the keys to the Porsche
Gave you the keys to the house
You should have my babies
We
ain't
Stand here by my side and I say
Baby
I want a chance with you
Got me singing baby
Spare me the attitude
Cause I know that you want this
Baby
I want
young Quincy Jones, dark skin Michael Jackson
And these the motherfuckers that they packaged
Their new shit all be sounding like my past shit
Bring
the 59, you know Grey the fucking color
My gat' screamin', "Kill 'em Wetto, hit 'em where they lay"
Smokin' 'em like some indo, let the pistol up
in the mood, just go with the flow
And I can play rapping records and all disco
Like "Beat It," "Billie Jean," by Michael Jackson
Or the Treacherous
This could be
This could be something
If you let it be something
This could be
This could be something, yeah
If you let it be something
Right now
Suessy with the flow when I'm down in the Bacardi
I don't want your baby mama she just slurped me at a party
Hold up let's roll up
I got stories by
the history of rap they've never seen such prominence
Your naïve confidence gets crushed by my dominance (word up)
Now let's get back to this mic on my arm
a boost
Let 'em shoot through the roof
Bring my sister happiness
And my Daddy too
I've always been the star in my life
Thought everything I did was right
the history of rap they've never seen such prominence
Your naive confidence gets crushed by my dominance (word up)
Now let's get back to this mic on my arm
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