Lyrics:
album baby, I came back around
By myself this time, back off the wall
Guns up in the air in the middle of the streets like blak blak blak, welcome
album baby, I came back around
By myself this time, back off the wall
Guns up in the air in the middle of the streets like blak blak blak, welcome
Uh, rap niggas back on the chopping block
Come out that house, back to yo mom and yo papa spot
Back to the county, back to three hots in a hostel
on the floor
Pump in the trunk
Dumping the punks
This is the house
Wipe your fucking feet and shut your mouth
I was up on the south, chop and screw it
High in
an igloo house
Cooler than Kurt Russell with his finger on the trigger of a blower
Packing incognito drivin the rig
With biggie small world we living in
you live?
How that's your house if they can run in your crib?
What happens if it's two guns by my bed?
Look at my wall it's a bunch of your head
Now I'm
postal, you can blame it on the federal
I know I lost my mind, I wonder why it's so forgettable
I'm tryna get my money straight, my cash is going hetero
It's like this beat is cursed, shotgun aimed like Kurt
Let it rain like Dirk, rap my main perk, it's crazy it's crazy, can you please save me
to do with defeats
I turn all of those to motivational musical speech
Oh, and by the way, guess what I'm doin' to eat?
Yup, rappin', who cares about
its life events mine surrounded by my albums like release dates as if they were keeping track for me because they were interested we were all a little
Brown paper bag (yo khaled I'm so focused homie I can see clearly now you all ready know what it is)
Thank god for those days, thank god for those
Nigga I want this money 'til it's rich
Buy my album
Guarded by 30 Section 3
Go against the grain
I got to pee
I know you don't recognize me now
I done
is equivalent to me
I break down the beat, like I break down my weed
I skate down my street, with my K by my feet
To make it in my hood, you gotta
up, and realize,
this muthafuckin album (why my homies got to die) is dedicated to all the
niggaz that got a second chance on life, and that's
down (tell 'em girl)
Ay yo, my rolls be Liberace
And my bedroom is off the hook all day, designed by Versace
Y'all just watch me, this is how I blow
BY YA (bzz bzzt) in sun fire - see'mon!
What why'all need to do is throw that shit up, shit up
For the cool amigos with Tequila in the gut
What
an immigrant family
Middle class salaries
On 47th Street by the Stones
Where they move white out the house same block as Obama's home
Uh, born alone, die
Yeah, this album is dedicated
To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all the people that lived above the buildings that I
Yeah, this album is dedicated
To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all the people that lived above the buildings that I
needs a win
My pride isn't written
I might be offended by my intuition
How do I piss myself off
Listen
I'm just a guest in the house of rap but I pay rent
spin around, I'm the new kid in town
Yeah it's coming soldier,
April the month it's over
Yeah your run is over
The album is done I told you
What
real world is, only a dream
I love you cat
I love you too
Jour body moved slow and your brain did too
Your mind was wrecked by drugs
I'm glad I don't
love you)
(I love you)
I woke up out that coma 2001
'Bout the same time Dre dropped 2001
Three years later the album is done
Aftermath presents,
How are you stoppin' us? They is not toppin' us
You know I had to cop that shit just by the twos
Blood in my chakra, I will not pop at ya
Put money
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