Lyrics:
realities
Someone wit an Amazonian complex who don’t call for Calvary
Let loose yo love from catapult, I eat you up wit guacamole
I need yo foreign flavors,
the Mediterranean
How much? Who offers more?
Soy, cotton, corn and rice
Coal, clothes, the debt is close
The sun that cries is in your eyes
And rises, rises, rises
And they all mine shiny things the same
Your cell phone screen is lain
With choice minerals of today contained
Mined by people whos tribes were slain
{Commission #1}
Who's the man and what's his plan is it to kill off all his niggas ?
It's the 90's motherfucka we no longer stays the cotton pickas
father and mother and the disciples who were with him, and went in where the child was. 41 He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum!” (which
fuck the system, bring freedom around us ('round us)
Black or white, fight against the ones who drown us (Drown us)
New age slaves, prison factories
Yea
Lights on and its showtime
My time
Game time
We tip off I turn up throw lob city it's bang time
M-V-P its LeBron James
Like a freight train
of mediocre mode, pay for a DBA
The man with the mic goes by Famous Frank James
Dang gang, it's all cool beans
Pop two or three, A, B, C, D, E
Bitch I'm from
by
As I gazed down my rifle at his breast but then, then a soldier I.
They say he was different, kindly too apart from all the rest.
A lover
flares, sirens glare
I'm in an iron chair with people who care
Don't get the lion share
When I don't give a fuck, then I ain't fair
I'm on a higher tier
And the fourth time on the way out you doing backflips
Pick you up and lay flat up on that mattress
James Harden in the clutch, cant pass this
I gotta thing for
that ain't my business
Then she screamin gettin mad
She like jamesy why you lyin
You ain't gotta be like that
I'm like who you think you talkin to
Just
Well, I reckon now’s a good time
To tell you ‘bout a good man
Who tried to help the world
Finally understand –
That it’s so wrong to judge another
By
doesn't pay.'"
"I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth."
"President Franklin D. Roosevelt stricken late today."
"Who
Bitch I know you wanna tell ya girlfriends how it was
To get hit from the back, in the back of the 'Lac by a thug
And to get ran through until you get
a bitch
Tell her roll my shit up huh
Secret compartment in my car, James Bond
Though I'm James Bong, nigga bread long
And my name known in e'ry home
outloud.
O thou, of Angels loveliest, most wise,
O God betrayed by fate, deprived of praise,
(O Prince of exile, who was dispossessed,
Who ever rises
Man you hell of a pussy for
The shit you did last night
I could tell you nervous right now by
How you moving your hands right
Yeah please don't fuck
A valued man, with a great character
An incredible shipmate and unique individual
He seemed to be respected by people who saw him visually
Wanted to go
the sport
Coats of the season
And surrounded by his whole Odd Future crew
The ascendant singer opens up to
Amy Wallace about his crazy
Year including the bomb
rest is on my born day
Bust it, sometimes I sit back and just reflect
Watch the world go by and my thought connect
I think about the time past
I am a sinner, who's probably gonna sin again
Lord forgive me, Lord forgive me
Things I don't understand
Sometimes I need to be alone
Bitch don't
barred from
I'm setting myself apart from rappers who use other rappers names
So other motherfuckers can watch 'em
It's as simple as this y'all niggas
themselves every time they hear him say
Tra la la!
Underpants
Hey, who's that hunk?
Captain Underpants
Is that cotton pre-shrunk?
Na na na na na
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