Lyrics:
the masses move
I carry tools that'll pick you up and out your shoes
Xzibit bringin' new meanin' to alcohol abuse
I wanna fall up in the spot where all
These are the things I'm on
Niggas see the potential
Wreck shit King Kong
Beat bot tiller, he a beat Godzilla
I'm that nigga, boy boy, told you before
a fiend fuckin' little Raheem
Damn, drugs will make you do terrible things
He told me when he get out he's murdering by any means
The day came I saw him
boots kickin' bitch yeah you
Know I'm the cowboy
Addicted to thick chicks, tall boys
And loud toys i keep that joint smokin' like
A stack on the Cummins
Yeah, yeah, payback man
Infamous up in this, you know how we get down
Is that yo' hoe? She feelin' our style
We come through the spot real heavy
to listen to that joint L made"
Word up
That's the joint you gotta listen to, why know what I mean?
Check this out why y'all
I got the key that fits
of Winn Dixie
But I felt the feeling before that
I found defining it tricky
Not attached to my city
Sometimes I spread myself thin
Over the paper, confetti
for months
Tryin to figure who done it, you fronted
Got cha shit stunted, didn't have to be that way
Some saw the light comin in, they shunned it
get that ass in a hospital
Wrapped in cast from head to toe
This boy he real!
Racing those candy Sevilles through Dixie Hills
My car do wheelies they
love me, said she wanted to hold me
("Yo he ain't shit to me Alvin, I was just into his album
That was some bullshit, I'm sorry, I'm better without him")
close to me
fa sho' poppi nobody
yea thats how its posed' to be
now listen you can either comprehend it or compliment it
its all authentic
but you better
Fuck your mixtape, that shit's not (fire)
Fuck your album, that shit's not (fire)
Every time, you hear Chip drops (fire)
Touch the mic and ignite that
that you watching up on tv
It's not who you start with it's who fucking finishing
Like I told you in the album it ain't a sprint bitch
I'm here just
I might even try goin' back to mass this year
Yeah, told bro that I ain't jokin' this year
Told wifey I might even give up smokin' this year
Told
Sky-Pie Century 21 (Words and Music by Peter Watts © 2022)
Now, daddio, you gotta listen!
You don't know, man, and neither do I, oh no!
I'm gonna
She want a Cuban link
With ice bergs
Type to make her eyes twirl
Beanie made by Yeezy
That she'd never rock
That's my girl
Icing on the vee vees
Look
motherfuckin' name
I told you I was gon' be great ma
I told you I was goin' be somebody!
Oh!! Feel so good
Feel so free
Put your fists in the air, aow!
that's what my cousin Meechie say
But we could pull about five, I'm talkin' five, that's just by either way
Five million for my album, that's an easy
for a drink, you know
Took her home?
Yeah, just for a drink
Oh
But that chick looked so ugly she had to sneak up on a glass to get a drink of water
head that I want to forget
Uh and I don't live with regret
But I've been living with a chick while other chicks try to text
It wasn't me
You ain't
don't need to cry, dub you can play that shit man, play it man
I'm tired of this shit, remember the time I told y'all
When I got burnt, gonorrhea
You already know what I been on
You know where I be at
'Cause men lie, women lie
Numbers don't, I see that
Catch me in a private jet
Like fuck
charity like a donation to the Crohn's disease up at Winn Dixie
Ain't that some shit
Still be on my gangsta shit
I told you about my principles and still
Made a bitch suck it up right in the chair (yeah)
I don't know that bitch but I told her, "Come here" (yeah)
I got the guap, my name is Symere (ayy)
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