Lyrics:
and audits
We bored wit ch-ya
Quick to hit ya
With the war whip
Scripture mister Forbes list
A bigger figure from a poor nigga
A lot of y'all names I
the women they wanna dance and frolic
You was a winner well now the grands in pockets
Now you get rants and audits
We bored wit ch-ya
Quick to hit ya
the banister
Shoot him on camera then kill his manager
Then hang a banner up
That reads you can't proceed
Without bein' conceived
By one album of the 90's
made 'for you by you'
Every hip-hop nigga listen and wishing he had your style
To go against you if you rip him and pass him by (yeah)
A mastermind is
Indeed truly we are the mighty mighty BDP posse
This is our fourth album and we're still not takin' no shorts
Yeah, ha hah!
On the wheels
Publishing/Showbilly Music
New lyrics by Cledus T. Judd (I stopped here due to the album details stopped here...but I knew Cledus would have been listed in there...so I
album went six thousand on niggas
In Kansas City alone, we packed the dome with Mike and Liddy alone
In the west side, Lee Jone, Milly Mal, I left you
Verse 1
-------
Some of the busiest rhymes ever made by man
Are goin' into this mic, written by this hand
Are comin' out of this mouth, made by this
Last song on the album, lay down
Let me hit you with the talcum
This is add on, this just tax
Lay back
Let me hit you with the jazzhands
I'm
hard live by that motto
All them haters they follow
Hit that bitch once I got options
Why you talking
Gawking
Got this album dropping
While he flopping
lil' ol' alcoholic-ass nigga
[Hamm]
Well, you know I got to have it, my brother, ain't nothing changed
You want to hit it?
[Quik]
Yeah, what's
Hennessy, hangin' with the clowns
And all we used to do is drink brew
Screw and common knew
We had bitches by the dozens
We fuckin' cousins
You can throw your
moving like the sigma hog album still droppin off haaaaaaaa
Malcontent November 5th and nah bitch the beats wasn't made by the Alchemist (naaaah)
I don't
[Chorus 1]
pull up in a brand new
shawty hit my line but she old news
i dont waste time you know what it do
im up by 6am
im up by 6am
up by 6am
up by 6am
Yeah, it's CMG the album, nigga, you know what I'm sayin'?
History
You ain't never seen this many gangsters in the same squad
You never seen this
Little niggas want to rap and think that shit sweet
Push his first album and he died the same week
Put that water on the dirt turn that shit to mud
I
that you do
Because stupid is how everybody sounded
Nigga you think you know me, but only if you knew me
Homie, you would leave me by my lonely
I'm
failed
Called you by surprise
Now the Devil in your eyes
Devil in your pie, see a coochee
Hit the broad
Stupid that you feelin' to live
In the crack
it out and exercise my fucking patiences on it
Verses hit you like a shot, hooks, like their laced with chronic
Not to mention all the beats you've
don't know
What we could do if we had more
But we don't
Still going to make eleven hits for my album though
I met you in a club in Atlanta, Georgia
Said me and my homeboy were coming out with an album
You looked at me like, "Yeah, nigga right"
But you
By listening to Lo-Fi right?
Well you came to the place
Where you are welcomed
You are not alone
In fact
This album’s just for you
So make yourself
What if a brick was only just a misdemeanor?
What if Manhattan was hit by Hurricane Katrina?
What if a black man was the one controlling Fema?
What if
drinks
Haunted by the thoughts of
Second album sophomore jinx
Where did I fail? Death threats
Woke up in cold sweats
Thinkin' about all these murders that
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