Lyrics:
face down
Hoodie gang strong like Trayvon
Gun by the window like Detroit Red
Bring that shit by the neck of my woods
And bet a nigga ass end up dead
only feel like I've been rappin' a year
Let a nigga play with me, I'm ready
My bitch gettin' rich off of cosmetics
Life off, they done freed my daddy
There you go,
Acting like a hoe
I don't know why I'll be fucking with you
Was it the liquor, that makes me act blind, times that I'm with her
your mind like they did Kennedy's
Closed casket ghetto boys world where we
Make the murder bracket high shore taxes
High by the dead beat daddy’s
to bust 'em, I'm fucking desperate
Stuck in this recession, now what you think
If I could get signed my life is destined
My future depends on ink
again, I'm off the job like the mob.
Hey, no prob', many solved, on the knob, make 'em soft, drob.
What you gotta deal with is real, made of steel.
You
explain my plateau
And also what defines my name
Yeah, long live the idols, may they never be your rivals
Pac was like Jesus, Nas wrote the Bible
Now
by the time I'm through
I make him feel about the size of the midget Tattoo
Cause I love my brother (and I love him back)
And more people
I can tell by the way, you lookin' at me, girl
I wanna make love in this club (ayy) (wanna make love)
In this club (ayy) (yeah)
In this club
and not givin a fuck
There ain't a nigga I ain't hit when I buck and left 'em shit outta luck
I'ma gangsta like my daddy was, hittin number spots
Sendin
in the well that can wish ya' boy well
Cells eaten by cancer got me lookin' for answers
Doctors say my daughter won't grow up to be a dancer
Just
self dead
She said, "You shouldn't say that"
I said, "What did I say to make you mad this time, baby?"
She said, "Umm"
I don't know
My oh, my oh, my
of them that can handle me (yeah) (no)
But I might let you try it off the Hennessy (uh)
Make 'em sing to this thang like a melody
And if your girl ain't
Southernplayalistic ATLiens in your sock drawer
No lockjaw, we got that raw shit and all the trimmings
Even though we got two albums, this one feel like the beginning
blunts cigar scent
I'm by myself and niggas run they mouths like auctions
To streets my brother
Fefe's my brother
And we stay on point like a fucking
and aim
Tryna get from the bottom to the top like the stock exchange
Shower, shit and shave and hit the corner for a block exchange
Amazing what my
Now I'm up here, Sittin’ on a shelf
Santa's little Elf, just spying IRL
My job be like: "Make sure
That these kids behave, and don't
Whine or fight
equip when I whip them
You say how can I make these dirty raps
Number one albums, back to back
If it was 1950, do you think I sell, no
They probably
Southernplayalistic ATLiens in your sock drawer
No lockjaw, we got that raw shit and all the trimmings
Even though we got two albums, this one feel like the beginning
for a freak-azoid
I'm like 'Hey, hook a nigga up with Ashanti'
I make her cook a chicken up and all my guns she hold
'em she blow my dice 'fore I roll
rotation, a winning combination
AM, FM, music modulation
Rappin' on the mic is my occupation
That's what I like, dear radio station
AM, FM, thought that
self dead
She said, "You shouldn't say that"
I said, "What did I say to make you mad this time, baby?"
She said, "Umm"
I don't know
My oh, my oh, my
of your head
Sleepless nights on an H.P. bed
A daddy by the time you're twenty one
If your happy with a nappy then you're in for fun
But you're here
Bobby will body anybody Like Gotti did Gambino, from Maryland to Reno
We know Tarantino a killer
But the Young Sinatra got you by the neck
.jpg/200px-Loretta_Lynn_SXSW_2016_-8842_(33197871691).jpg "Loretta Lynn")
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