Lyrics:
career down at my Uncle's [unknown] records.
You should see my new hairdo I dyed it jet black,
Well it's short on the top and it's long at the back.
sure it comes out rude
Then I grind down the frustration hard so that all of the scents can blend
I pour the sweat on top and then the tears
To make sure
few years I've tasted who you're going to be
Candy coated on top
But so bitter underneath
Uh oh, uh oh
He's still watching
Oh no, Oh no
She's
your positions
Waste not whatnot
I don't want your nothing
On top she's hot
No discussion
I'm a diva
Teacher (to the rap game)
Here when it
[Chorus:]
'Cause I am a ghost boy I don't
Scare and I don't get no bellyaches
And I'll be eating sparrows
Sitting on top of a tree
And as the days go
2 step cool like winter fresh
I sag not to show my ass but
Kiss it girl yea lick it off
Got a whip for every season
Drop the top will make it
station
She worked as a cook there for a long, long time
She said, "hey, Cowboy" later on she said
"Nice boy, good worker, top rider, lucky one, that
Buckle down, when it becomes a threat you vocalize a hard truth
So here goes
I've reached the top of this ladder but what did it matter,
It's
cannonball
I'm the human cannonball, y'all
Well I'm a hot shot
I'm a cool breeze
Underneath the big top
I'm the big cheese
I lay it on the line
Let it
like that y'all, no, uh-uh, it's like this
Man, we ride top peel't back, chopstick with the shine
Know what they know 'bout that on the mission
she may be
She may search this whole wide world over
Never find a sweeter man as me
When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat
Put
Zeniths and Vogues I suppose are still poppin
Zapcos are rockin, drop-tops are droppin
Squattin, smokin it up plus the dippin
With Cougars and Chevs and all
waiting to succeed
I might be just a little kid but I know what rocks
Rap is out the Moldy Peaches are at the top
We hate dance and we hate rap
But
For real baby, you know how to do it
Top marks, hit the spot
You know, like it or not
some bitches from the city of Compton
To serve me, not with a cherry on top
'Cause when I bust my nut, I'm raisin up off the cot
Don't get upset girl,
clap, smack
Hit across your lips wit some shit
That make ya want to spit and do two back flips
Blue top, I clear through the air
You against me? Well I
through
What matter if the knave
That the most could pleasure you
The children that he gave
Somewhere sleeping like a top
Under a marble flag
I carry
at the tenor in the cold top steeples
Like no screaming
My dear they will dry off ya cheeks
And never been down the factor to much of
That can bring you
Safe sex
The diaphragm
Lacking of your self-control
Diary
The top Drawer
Your mother wished she'd never seen
I just wanted to be loved she
play me, top celebrity man
Murderer, I'm the lyrical gangster, murderer
Excuse me mister officer, murderer
Still love you like that, murderer
for the streets, it's the D-R-E
Right back up in ya mothafuckin' ass, 9-5 plus four pennies!
Add that shit up, D-R-E right back up on top of thangs
hard to reach the top
It's not hard not knowing when to stop
It's not hard to take all
Not very difficult to fly if you settle for a fall
It's
sexatic with more moves in
Your moms crack attic
I'm asmatic so get on top
And get hot but don't stop
Cause I'm about too....
Hop off then flush the rubber
there must
Be someone on top of that small speck of dust”
“Some poor little person who's shaking with fear
That he'll blow in the pool, he has no way
Discuss these top Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In