Lyrics:
Man it must be so cool,
You?re barely out of high school,
A seven album record deal,
That was no big deal alright,
Oh yeah.
Too right you?re always
of shit ha
First album here we go now
Here we
Here we
Here we start at the boom bap
Tryna take you all back
To the day your momma used to listen
Riding with
thugging by my lonely
I ain't hanging out
You my dawg
Then hold it down when I'm not around
Need to know my people straight when I'm out of town
Street smart
New York New York, big city of dreams
And everything in New York ain't always what it seems
You might get fooled if you come from out of town
Chorus
To this small, little
not too big, little homey
Nice, little, quaint, little
always kindly
Old New England town
Welcome
If you're new
you can get hurt
Foolin' around
With that little town flirt
You better run and hide now boy (Here she comes)
You better pass her by, now, yeah,
Going again and again and I get it.
They said make an album so I went and did it.
Blunt it be ripping while wearing a chain and a fitted, right hand
yoyoyo, yoyoyo
Once upon a time there was a little boy who
played the ukelele. He'd go around town,
'Blmp, blmp, blmp, blmp, blmp, blmp, blmp,
bImp blmp
Let it go Let this angel life go
Let yourself go
Time is passin' 'til the cops come
Big beef, big beefin' with the Mistress
of the year
Gotta give some of that sht back
I'm Big mad
Big Dawg
No K9
No strap
For Now
Big hands to defend my bag
Let me get by
Let me get mine
Let me find my
can't trust
But as long as we're here now it's a vibe just ride on wit it babe
Pretty colors flashing lights big dreams
That's the city babe
Are you
Hands up in the air
I just want the
I just want the baddest bitch in the world
Right here on my lap
And I'ma hit this drink up like it's my
Hands up in the air
I just want the
I just want the baddest bitch in the world
Right here on my lap
And I'ma hit this drink up like it's my
mind be free
And by the way, welcome to the party
Uh uh excuse me Mr kid Rock
Can I do my thing?
Can I have a little something
To say right here? (Oh
Mike when I'm under attack
Album's here, can you smell that cooking?
Man wanna chat 'bout the proof's in the pudding
Tell me to shut up, we'll both
Aye but here I go on the radio
But you hear me in person and I hop up in TV
Tears of Vice
Damn HoldUp
We bouta get big
We bouta get big
We bouta get big
I know mama credit quite good
So I'm out here with this dope money got a big body in my hood
Nigga you see it, better believe it, this what I'm bout
the border, Mexico right next do'
And our women fine
Yellow with the big behind
H Town a goldmine for niggas
If they got grind (Snoop Dogg)
How they do it out
get a little piece of this
thang here like that there, trip.
Let a nigga from the E.S. L.B. D.P. beat that pussy
'til it's soft & mushy I love that
naw, it'll do for our little town
I said, your old flagpole has leaned a little bit
And that's a ragged old flag you got hanging on it
He said, have
on going strong
Tune out the world when it goes wrong
Don't you know that everybody dreams about what we found
A big love in a small town
It's a mom
stalker
Words thrillin', so real they're chillin', the hit author
Gettin' louder than a shot gun, you don't want none
Rhyme pays was the name of the album
woulda quit a long time ago
But now I've got a record out
I'm doin shows, people payin to see me turn it out
Now I'm the spice around town
It's funny how
make it big
On god I think I found my gig
Yo Sam I think I found my niche
Ya boi is 'bout to
Take this bitch by storm
Not my final form
But I'm-a reach
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