Lyrics:
outer space
Or you’ll be dead on my arrival, labeled as D.O.M.A.
Hot protection but I’m burning, Aiming up above ya tummy
Put a bullet in yo chest, now
I'm Mr. Stack in my jeans NIKE, No Alexander and McQueen
I'm Mr. I match the fit with the beam Victoria, Ari, Celine
Out in LA, I met up with Sulena
bloody, lil buddy
I don't play with the gun smoke
For the East to the West Coast, nigga give up the ghost
No problem Barry you don't no cemetery, homes
clean you up leave you disease lil nigga
Put you on ice mr freeze lil nigga
Its that ride or die
Caught him by surprise
Milli in my eyes
Knock him off his
love this rifle
Fuck a diss song we gon kill our rivals
Put them bands in my hand bitch upon arrival
Tim the tool man the way we drillin shit
I gotta
throw your hands in the air, big boats
Big cars, throw your hands in the air, superstar
A'yo I'm dealin' with this mami from Quebec
When she fly in I
hair cut
My steve harvey look right on
Yea i know you see the ice
I'm on they cut the light on me
Gucci bag 50 grand in it
Look don't put yo hands in it
[Mr.Cheeks ]
Yo we come through like bulls nigga take two puffs and pass
Nigga watch your back once you talk out your ass
I back up 3 80 and my
I ain't gotta know when, if you put yo hands on
My lil' nigga I'ma catch a murder case
I'm ridin' 'round with my toot out
You even been in a shoot
up on some blades
I keep a tight fade
You know Im always on my paper chase
Always get my green, always on my lean
Me and Po-yo fixin to pop up
So this right here the code to me
Shit I ain’t putting up with no fake shit tonight that’s on God
No fake shit tonight that’s on my mom
Put ya hands up
Riding round inside my new thing
They gon' say me Mr. Owe me
Rest in peace Big and Nakas
I had to get it by my lonely
Windows tinted like I'm Bruce
up
Ay yo I'm slippin', I'm fallin', I can't get up
Ay yo I'm slippin', I'm fallin', I gots to get up
Get me back on my feet so I can tear shit up
the mailbox
Right by the door, and!
I can’t do right by a hoe
I’m G’d up but through my eyes I see my soul
Too much of a player to go out with a hoe
See me in
out my word
I promise to god that i'd make up my worth
Bitch
Keep me a glock
Nigga run up get popped
I'll put yo mans inna box
Ain't from New York but I
Aw yeah (Aw yeah)
Aw yeah (Slime)
Aw yeah (Slatt, go)
I wrap my bands up in some elastics
My money stretch long like Mr. Fantastic
Her booty be
warrrents beats and program to kill
Timbaland n****, and I'm Ill
Don't believe me? Take the back of your hand and feel
I'm burnin' up, yo, can't stop my
beats I don't play, yo
I get it on
Can I get it on? (Um hm)
Are ya hands up? (Um hm)
Where all the playa haters at? (Um hm)
Now point 'em
bout a mil
My whole team nigga got to eat
Ill Fuck around take everything nigga off yo plate
And have my lil bro put his pole up in yo face
The first
MANN WE PADED UP BY THE OOMP CAMP ITS GOING DOWN AND IF YOU DON'T GIVA A fuck IN DIS MUTHA~F**KA PUT YO MIDDLE FINGERS UP YOU'N GIVE A fuck BOUT DAT OTHA
for my folks who dead and gone i really thug y'all
I really love y'all (yo final ride cuttin let's slide)
Put another gram up in a bowl nah this my 5th
at y'all with ya Goofy's on
Box, Pink Pather's, Snoopy's on
I just put up all my jury on
All my diamonds, n' my ruby's on
Shinin' off the light
It look like
at y'all with ya Goofy's on
Box, Pink Pather's, Snoopy's on
I just put up all my jury on
All my diamonds, n' my ruby's on
Shinin' off the light
It look like
it all tonight
Mr. Put It On, I see yo bitch You better call her mine
Billion Dollar Bars in this Bitch, Feel like Bruce Wayne
Aye, And I up a mask
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