Lyrics:
Hit them with some vibe Projet9
Wor wor wor, wor wor
she too wor wor wor uh uh uh
Wor wor wor, wor wor.
She tell me say
bad man me I need your
Spyder, two cars
One for the weekend, one for the Bae
House in the City, House by the bay
Drive in the Rolls Royce on the weekday
Salute the Chauffeur, have
(They know my name by now
But if not
A Bands
A Bands
A Bands
Bands
Bands)
9 PM she say she lit (lit)
That was all part of the script (script)
Kush
lifestyles
Delude the masses
While Spotify and Apple
Fucking over artists
I'm here to tell you man
That their systems so garbage
We make this music
We mix
to the top with my homies.
I pray for success by my lonely.
I'm Al Capone
Never mix me with a phony,
Danger is all that I'm knowing.
Reciting a poem,
My
I ain't been grateful enough, I'm guilty
I've been blinded by my fears
Way to greasy, more than he'll be
Flashin' grins to hide my tears
'I've been
is what i speak
Grim as fuck
Unholy souls yeah that's what I reap
Fuck keep the peace
I'm about that action
I'm about the verbs
Talkin shit yeah
All
paraphrase, or even put into words
They're reeling in hatred, instilling of fear, man their actions are downright absurd
So once again you got to open up your
want no one else to die
Instead of tradin' souls, I got somethin' else in mind (yeah)
There's a lot of moments that I wish that I could change
I
daisies
I nipped it in the bud these bitches cannot play me
Mississippi's best lyricist man of few words
And still no recognition that shit sounds absurd
I've been sinking in quicksand for something like six hours now
But the sand man ain't coming to put me out
Silence surrounds me while something
the get back gang war 99th niggas fred ward
Americas most wanted I'm haunted by sinister niggas that paid
For
Mr. mitchell johnson you's a grown man with no
get some weed. Mix it with my tea. What?! Man, that shit is weak.
What you want is Percocets and mix ‘em with your Pepsi… here. Got some Heines or some
Yeah
Sendin' this one out, to my man Killa B
No doubt indeed, without weed
Know what I'm sayin'?
That old real shit
There's a war goin'
Yeah
Sendin' this one out, to my man Killa B
No doubt indeed, without weed
Know what I'm sayin'?
That old real shit
There's a war goin'
heh
Then tell all the kids to try it
Man, what's it's gon' take to make it?
For them to say that I'm one of the greatest?
Do I gotta go sell my soul
a psychopath-ic
'Cause I'm graphic on the mic I never let go
Light skinner eat dinner like a soul man
Prove with the rhyme I'm down, Sam's hands
Transform
a psychopath-ic
'Cause I'm graphic on the mic I never let go
Light skinner eat dinner like a soul man
Prove with the rhyme I'm down, Sam's hands
Transform
from
And still moving round on the road
I made up my mind, I'm going to get it
Man I can feel this in my soul
Be all in the mix when I'm handling
Life'll throw distractions every altitude (altitude)
Always keep your word like there be attitudes (there be attitudes)
Even when absurd people throw evil
Lazarus was a Christian man indeed
But he never stepped foot inside a church
cnd on the day he died
Both his sisters cried
How quickly we fall from
real love then you make sacrifices
To get ahead man you gotta make sacrifices
Fuck it though that's how hungry my appetite is
Fuck what you telling
thought this was absurd
Every moment that we spend goes by too fast
Darling, darling take this chance with me
'Cause I have eyes only for you
died
(Yeah)
Triple 6 to the grave
Third eye lit up
I can see the end
But I know it's gonna start again
Eh, eh
Mix some henny with the cola
I ain't talkin
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