Lyrics:
stu
I locked myself inside this booth
Cut communication with a few
And by the time you hear this shit
I'm workin' album number 2
Like Babyface I get
Shoryuken (fire)
Ultra combo like Cinder (fire)
Kick Scar like Simba into (fire)
Try play me, you get (Yoga) flame
Cook daily, you get (Yoga fire)
End
but no fuckin bullets was left
What ya figure, that my life was filled wit happiness
Ya wrong, I tell you for real and not the fake stories
Ya can get
I'm in shock
The nerve, the audacity
Okay
So if you rebuke me for workin' with someone else on a couple of Vs
What do you really think
What you don't understand
Is that your voice is naturally beautiful
So even your ugly tones are beautiful
And you've gotta understand that about your
on the streets
Niggas scream peace they don't want it
Cause they screamin' they "Can't C Me"
You heard the album, All Eyez On Me
If there's a cure for this
I
food for thoughts cuz by the time
I'm done with these beats you're gonna need Atkins
I could see your mouth watering
That's why I bought you a pack full
work for F-E-D-S
And plays his recorder
You think he placing he taping his order
Marking the bills they read,
Tasting the waterf***ed up
We
found that I would bring
People home from school and say, "Have
I got a record for you" And
I would play that for 'em
And they would look
At me like I was
what
You need to be, You need to let
That go just remember that all you
Need is motivation and compassion
For yourself, you can become just
Like me
the blood and the sweat
You bet I'm a nervous wreck
God knows if I say that I come for a check
Then a check is what I expect
God knows I'm a pain in
, know we gotta get the cake
Buss a bale, what’s the weight, 22bows ran me 10k
Want the strong by the zone, 2 and a quarter all the way
Make a play, make
and the bad guy will fail
But the question now isn’t what others will do
It’s the question of if you will let them get through to you
I let you push me around
there's whites, separated by the green
After five hundred years, think we play for the same team
Smokescreen, make the president a black guy
It ain't no
written
(I like to write in the moment)
For the first two albums
There were no such talks but
That was before my name
Was familiar so let me start my story
Now this is what they've been waiting for (yah, yessir)
Ya dig? (Ya dig?) Santana (Weezy F), ayy, haha
Ayy, Wayne (what up, man?)
What you been
fabricated fact to write a story, don't feel bad for me
Genius tc, I'm building my legacy
What do you do when everybody play pretend
Your world doesn't make
(what,) uh, (what,) that's the way it's goin' down.
My new album ain't no joke.
You want to take me out, how many bunch ya smoke?
I'll never slack
this is the Christmas part
And we're gonna tell you what to get, uh, your true love for Christmas
Look out the window
Where? What are you doing?
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
by a Mack truck
And don't come around forty and front and get tapped up
Cracked up, can't wait 'till this album is wrapped up
I'mma take you
my trick ain't for kids, if you dig 'em, you'll get smacked
I'll clock ya, I'll spring forward, you fall back
Every album that I drop has got more
chew so here's a piece of my mind//
You a lame for the juice and you shook/
You Walk the walk for industry plays, turning more Fruit by the foot//
Hot
lose, I ain't lose, never lost
Always on, keepin' on, always on, never off
What the fuck is you hating for like you done something for a nigga?
Would
.jpg/300px-REO_Speedwagon_at_Red_Rocks_July_2010_(cropped).jpg "REO Speedwagon")
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