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I'll be right by your side
Radio play me that new 3005
Bino won't die, illest rapper alive
See what's up with Fredo when
I'm out in the Chi
Murder
him well, get him high, he might fuck around and die

I guess you know by now who's number one
Brooklyn, Brooklyn that's where I'm from
(Number one)
like lays

Hit her with the mind games now she calling my David Blaine
Surrounded by whites, sometimes I feel like a fucking spade
All I did was write so
gunsmoke in Tokyo
MC's dosey do your mics up in this rodeo
My star roast em up by the thousands, millions, quadrillions
Shuttin down national state buildings
you on a stretcher
I'm cooking that dope like it Hamburger Helper
Selling that white Cinderella
Trap house stankin'
Drink lean by the pint
It's
at your engineer:
A Japanese guy with glasses on with straight leg jeans and a beer

Got you on Hit Factory with four groupies with acne
Thinking you
That's well understood

Yeah, worry bout me baby
You should

cll carry-on baggage
cll smiles to get by
Throw on an old movie
cnd you might see me cry
My
even know me, why you acting like my homie
I’ve been really by my lonely till I find my place real slowly
Static when you hit my line, shit is kinda
can't even take a hit

This one for Logic...
Yo, Ross

Why the hate?
Got fam in the Bay State
I'm great
Learning to accept the hate
Losin' weight
So I can
the days of our ancestors 
Slaves to a mad pleasure, building great architectures 
Sharp dressers, smart professors 
Start my lecture, I build lyrics like
of a magazine ain't even got a album out
Hop at da streets my delete cuh my hits out
Now I'm da one everybody wanna talk about
Hustle hard ball harder dats wat I
of a great fire
Being struck by a lightning, and shaken to death by a great earthquake
Falling from thousand foot cliffs, dying of a disease
Committing
Yeah, Young Rich Niggas
Back to back, two times

Hit a nigga with the throwaway
Bitch I came from another place
Unfortunately we couldn't beat
generate some great hits I will regulate & create 8 slits I plan to cut them all into 8 bits an then I will generate some great hits I will regulate & create
don't rain 
40 p's 40 new faces as I cross across the state 
Lost my white boy to that fentanyl when we was living great 
100 bands feel like you rich
Frank zappa (guitar, synclavier)
Steve vai (guitar)
Ray white (guitar, vocals)
Tommy mars (keyboards)
Chuck wild (piano)
Arthur barrow (bass)
Scott
of seeds
I don't know but the high I got, you need
Look up in the air you might see me flying by
Have a toast to the good life, we be high
Let the gonja hit
by Yes
I made some sense of all my mess mess mess mess (Oh yeah)

So it's true
When you hit that poor ol' roo
It's not the places where you make new
(the Machine)
Send my dog to stretch ya
Lay you on a stretcher
I don't fuck wit rappers
They can't get a verse from me
Rocking Off White shit that
Virgil
with black and white pictures of ail those great talented fixtures

By Paris by taxi by accident By Paris by taxi by accident

It seemed like a good
Hey man, it's Jeremy, uh, your manager. I just wanted to run a few ideas by you. Um, I'm really having trouble pitching your music around, I gotta be
Yeah, I'd like to thank
Everybody, the haters, my fans
Wow, I spent five years, man
Three albums, thirty million copies
Gotta love it
I really never
Damn I think my earth might be laced
It hit like shotgun to the face
So high I'm gone without a trace
SOS I'm stuck in outer space
Damn I think my
the day.
Dumped by his girl, he paid for her liposuction,
His friends call him "Money", in his introduction.
And Marty knows nothing but claims to know it

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