Lyrics:
of the battles sung
In every neon light
In every corner I see what was former
I'd kill to get it back
Watching you walk away it's just too much to say
Follow
yeah the feeling's back
Understood that the track's for spittin' raps
When I cook it's a drag I'm spillin' facts
As I look for the gas to ignite
never really count
Stupid bitches better get back if I'm acting so profound
Hearing all these rumors and they spread it word of mouth
Everybody stressing
get scooped like some ice cream
Winning pick the right team did wrong for the right reasons
League in trouble our season
Athlete the trap like a track
with a thread of red twine
Sitting in 6th discussing hexameter
Praying everyday that we would get good weather
So we could go outside take a deep breath
never
Post the notes of exotics
Take you back to the tropics
'Cuz you led on a tour by the three black prophets
We rock this
Slap you wit' the mo
never
Post the notes of exotics
Take you back to the tropics
'Cuz you led on a tour by the three black prophets
We rock this
Slap you wit' the mo
more, dollar signs
Call her a hoe, yeah she fine
Roll it up play me this track
Got to go i'll be right back
Burning out my area code
No CDs, just hit
arrestin' him
And then in less than a
Heart beat I make the chart heat up
Please don't start me up to
Get to know how I be spitting on tracks
To make these
she proper I'ma pop her, the ho hopper
It's back on the track
With big money, big nuts and a big fat chronic sack
So Daz, step up on the ass
she proper I'ma pop her, the ho hopper
It's back on the track
With big money, big nuts and a big fat chronic sack
So Daz, step up on the ass
cassettes and CD's
Produced and arranged by the four-man crew
And oh shit, Skiff Anselm, he gets props too
Make sure you have a system with some phat house
-a-way, the can you get
You circle the block, you play track and field
A lot of real niggas on that track got killed
But you know me forever manning up,
Never sit
Dispense with the formalities and schemes
You may be contemplating
Foes are turning furry in
A hurry when transmogulating
By the pricking of my thumbs
he talk thats a fact
I can't do by myself cause I'm trash
But I flourish when God gat my back
And without him I know Imma crash
Without him I know Imma
a have fun with her
Young seven on the track
She can get I'm with it
Want to throw her on her back
Love the way you arch yo back
Tie her up
Fill her up
In your G ride
We gettin' me right
Hittin' with that Dogg Pound "C" life
Now it's I, with that stylish flow
So niggas step back or heads get
fagged off but fuck that bitch I'm by my self
All I need is my kids an a crib an I'm set
Ayy on the Gang
Ayy yup yup I was off track wit you Bitch
I'm only
really baby maybe they go
Download, download, no control in a track
Matter fact I'm relaxed despite my frequent asthma attacks
I got my world on my back
sick
And these haters mad
They asymptomatic
Now I'm back again
Like the terminator
By Schwarzenegger
I'm running up these tracks
Like I'm the running man
and and bring it back
First job I was only 8 matter fact
after school slang in papers by the stacks
when you was playing tag
I was trying the get the cash
From
Life was full of bliss, I was never losing track of my mind
Man can we take it back, so I can find
So I can find the time that I wasted
It should be
the night
I hear the calling
As the train goes by
Then all I hear is my footsteps falling
Upon the tears I cry
(yeah)
If I could find a better way to get
in the back
Right by the bike rack with the skater kids
With the dreams of one day touching racks
These niggas cool
Laid back listening to me rap
.jpg/204px-Ludacris_2008_(cropped).jpg "Ludacris")
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