Lyrics:
do is multiply
I puff a mad bag of buddha
Niggaz be like "Yo who the shorty?"
I'm bustin niggaz with my six-shooter
I get so much pussy my
leader
Never leave the block
without my heater
Two big pitts
I call them Mobb b****
N**** eaters
And I won't whimper till I'm gone
Thug Life
Running
with you, nigga?
You a fraud, just a fib, my nig', my nig', uh
Oh
You know I never did you wrong
Even though I'm right here by the phone, dawg
You
Guess who
J to the Lo
F to the A-B
Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah
I'm ain't Mr. Right, I'm Mr. Right Now (oh)
I keep women in thongs comin'
All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie
I'm love with a woman who don't even appeal to me
Mr. Jinx and Miss Lucy, they jumped in the lake
with the blues (ooh)
Going Mr. T with the jewels (ooh)
Get salt over by your boo (ooh)
I ain't never kickin' no spooks
Nigga say he thinkin' bout
. but
I'm a mister too
And you're givin' Mr. a bad name
Mr. like you
So I'm taking the Mr. from
Out in front of your name
'Cause it's a Mr. like
aka your highness, I just killed this shit
Moment of Silence, Uh
Uh, I’m in the zone like a fastball
and I f-ck the game like a bad call
Let
things by weight
They either drag you down or they lift you
Repeat chorus (then) bridge
Dm bb f bb
I don't read between the lines I'm not ready for what
Bought by a town
Bought by a country
It's time my man Jamal to come
Meet Mr. Malkski
They set em up the riddim
Sit down, me Billy boy
A-B-C-D-E-F
got here?
Anyone's guess how I go?
I suck on a roll-up - pull your jeans up -
F*** off, I'm going home
Jobseeker!
So Mr. Williamson, what have
All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie
I'm love with a woman who don't even appeal to me
Mr. Jinx and Miss Lucy, they jumped in the lake
a forklift
But you know my heart beat that New York shit
Fuck liftin' weights all I smoke is strong
Put a towel by the door
Cover the smoke alarm (Mr weedman)
your exposure
Not the best
You want me bad, I want you out
Release this stress.
Mr. Photographer
I think I'm ready for my close-up (tonight)
Make
[Chorus: Paul Wall]
I'm comin down, I'm actin bad
I'm chunkin dueces and I'm choppin up the slab
I'm comin through, I'm tippin dime
I'm sho a naked
who I was and I was like, "Yo, what's up I'm Kanye"
"You that kid that gave all them beats to Jay? Yo, this nigga got classics to your beats, B"
You
bad? Did you go bad?
5ths Reversed plays, then stops abruptly
Broken Brass Bin plays text eYES fREEZING
IN hELL bEGGING fOR uS aRE yOU fRESH
WE hAVE nO
Hussein who sews, who radical act
A mechanical bomb attached to my pelvis
That's what I mean by get, back, I mean get, back
Or find your head detached
against me, don't want me to be great
Things might look bad, I'm afraid to look death in the face
I'm good now (now, now, no way), who's really bad?
I
of an evangelist preacher from the southern United States.]
Thank you very much, Mr. Zappa.
Ah, I'm very pleased to be here on behalf of the Administration--
bad
I'm so, so bad
So let's dance the last dance
Let's dance the last dance
Let's dance the last dance tonight, yeah
Well, will you be my Mr
it lead to guns, then that be that
And lately niggas that snake me, just make me
Wanna send 'em heat without A/C
Thinks I'm sweet, taste me
How
It's because I want attention when I'm ridin' by
And the girls be on my jock cos my system's fly
(Cars ride by with the boomin' systems)
(Cars ride
Cheyenne
Wherever you might look tonight you might see this wanted man
I might be in Colorado,
Or Georgia by the sea
Working for some man who may not
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