Lyrics:
hit away
Yeah, whatever goes around in rap
Happens to not come back to me, and I ask you
[Chorus: Royce] + (Ingrid Smalls)
(If I was to die today
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
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
bitch would
But you niggas too weak, but just give me 2 weeks
And I'm good
I'll make an album that'll put a smile on Malcolm
Make Martin Luther tell
that's nice, its holographic
I'm working in the shade
So, I guess it looks like magic
And if I made an album
I just hope it'd be a classic
Life goes up
Hmm hmm, hmm hmm, hmm hmm, uh, uh
Sometimes I was held down by the gravity of my pen (pen)
Sometimes I was held down by the gravity of my sin (sin)
offended by this, but that's the market y'all missed
That's the target I'll hit
And that's the heart of my pitch
I wanna do this whole thing different
What
"Brra-Tat-Tat" so you betta watch out
Ouch!
Bitch I got money too
"Trilla" album comin' soon
Triple C's, 305, B-O-E give us room
Whip the keys
Stor Oslos by og bygdelag
Slå for vår folkedans et slag
Oppsett det ei men korn i dag
Springar er tingen
Samba og jitterbug på fest
Forfall og
even up my sleeve
A million albums sold and it?s hard to believe
Well it?s true homeboy, it?s not a lie
I used to sell tapes on sunnyside
I used
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
So this album was inspired by the productions of Timbaland
Rest in peace to the queen Aaliyah
Another inspiration for this
Let's get it
Here's a lil
presidential
Plus the rings that I got on by Versace
And I ain't even cocky
I'm just confident that I'm the shit
You hating motherfuckers know what time it
bring? Nothin' but pain and one in your fuckin' brain
Ain't nothin' changed since the album, I'm still wildin'
I'm still violent I've been waitin' for
one-on-one
Take this dope, hit a one on one
Ain't nothing else to do, she wanna cum for fun
I'm by myself, I brung no one
Nigga, she want me like Givenchy
In
Big Daddy Kane catch a vibe/
I was raised by the Rap Gods/ raised by the rap gods
I was Raised by the Rap Gods/ raised by the rap gods
Prodigy, Guru,
[Young Jeezy:]
U Kno We Keep That White Girl, Christina Aguilara
My Jewelry 2 Loud Baby Girl I Cant Hear Ya
I Need About 50 If Them Bricks Hit Tha
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
'll be the best grime artist
Even if I made an album
With a Punjabi hit-squad
Clash me, I'll make you jump like Kris Kross
Make a man know that I'm not
she on the pole
So I'mma go and get miles before I hit the dough
Girl pop that, pop that
When I say start don't stop that, stop that
Let a hot nigga hit
that I catch and I throw back
And by the way, give 50 Cent his flow back
You that cat in the club that get hit with a bottle
Fuckin' with me? You better
Ax Charlie Braxton
Damn man, I'm still amazed
The boys had the nerve to boo Big and Dre
When they hit the stage to
Accept the Source award
My heart
gon' use a dummy page to hit his management
"I'ma need your artist on my album, what's the damages?"
I got the cameraman with me, let's shoot a movie
a few graves
I hit the club and pop a few Spades
I'm gettin' pussy like Uncle Luke in
His 2 Live Crew days
She can't suck this dick again
If she ain't
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