Lyrics:
ain't talking smith
They all got phones
Man I don't go on dates
Fame is a drug
He used you For bait
Taking care all my sons like Nate
I'm balling harder
by Hotline9)
Weed got me higher than a Martian
Fuck 12, they ain’t never gonna catch me
They ain’t start yet
SeeTwelveRun gonna kill it, I can’t stop
ain't got
What she got, weak knees lock
Go deeper, she was
One of a kind
Loveable dime
But, she was mine
What she want in a guy
Hindsight says that's
Look at god won't he do it touched by angels Della Reese
Look at god won't he do it touched by angels Della Reese
Look at god won't he do it touched
of her, the scent
She always smiled when they passed her by
Kept her laughs and cries tucked away inside
They never stopped on the avenue
Til they found her
chasing hoes now his whole life fucked up
Stepping on my haters in some Yeezys got me fucked up
And if you ain't talking bout no paper then please shut
Reality, ain't always the truth
Rhymes equal actual life, in the youth
I lived in a spot called millbrooke projects
The original criminal minded rap
judging, but bugging, how we fall so many levels?
The devil's got us by the balls
That's why the law allows the drugs to overflood
Knowing we gonna buy it
on the Avenue is
Gangsta, ten toes down we steady hustle and that's
Gangsta, you get closed down be out muscled by a
Gangsta, ain't ever been soft, stick
farts mad
He said you drive this foreign like a go-kart dad
Spittin' like they got it, they on that mission
Lookin' different when you see 'em rappers
the p twice, you must be dreamin
Cause as you moan and groan, from the mouth you foam
Sayin, "p got inside, I shoulda left p alone"
Cause it's a fact,
crazy, he became a nuisance
Making moves up out the west and got it off without a blueprint
The money talking shit, keep it stirring
I'm 20-20 from my
lil money, you ain't made a real bet
She is not loyal, that is not real sex
Got it by myself
I got niggas pressed
Nigga walked in
Bouta hit up Big Ku
fame, fuck that jewelry/ how she just got pregnant by that nigga? shit aint cool with me/ I was niggas turn they back for hoes, shit a different breed/ I
bitch, Zooted
Go by Clo, I need them bands
Hit that nigga in his mans
We ain't beefing, niggas fans
You know we spend like ceiling fans
Lil' shorty got
signed to a deal
you could still shop for the 'Ville
Straight from the hilll-top, where steeeel, pop
and the, coast ain't clear it's reeeal, hot
Keep
my lane and shut my haters up
Underestimated got a feeling that my wait is up
Yes, blessed and filled with gratitude
In my own avenue riding with
the logo from them boys who won championships
I gotta create shit
Create my own shot like I’m Irving
So I’m bullet curving to the max
Gonna hit up a Max
the prism
Battle da foe i aint talkin bout willem
Blackwater keep flowing can't disrupt the rhythm
Ride with the canines that came from my litter
They peepin
As the bassline hit, we be vibin' our best
Stress, feel that bounce, all that drama gotta go
With you by my side, ain't nothin' holdin' me low
He done gave me
ask the S girls, the sags
Play cards for the mingles
Hit the avenue for the singles, by the new artist
Yo we never knew who God is
Yo we ran with
the coroners to make they bed up
Infrared shit from neck up
Before they got to lit the tec up
[Kool G Rap]
It was a setup my nigga got hit they blew
love from round me, just leave me alone
Leave me alone, please just stay away
Don't got time for distractions, I'm runnin' up cake
Nigga claim he a dog,
from the A
Tell em beat it like drum
He front line stepper
Use the stick like a weapon
Put a rythem on my body got me dripping from my necklace
Ate
Discuss these he aint got rhythm from on the avenue by irving berlin Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In