Lyrics:
gon' tell ya, we ball
Bout to change the C-Wall to the damn C and P-Wall
All, look at the screens fall can you stunt like me? Nah
More shoes, clothes
the beats and, for the record, they ain't cheap
I'm on album number 8 and I'm on mixtape number 3
Don't forget about the shows, different genres, different
money, let the hoes keep throwin'
I once met a tender, she did it for free
On the Foothill bus number forty-three
All the way on the back she was
his P's
My junkies is consumers, they gon' buy up what I bring
I'm landing with some pape, SFO door 3
Ayy, repeat offender, I just paid for TP
Flipped
rest in peace
At the age of twenty-three
Pete sakes, got us locked in
Mind frame like it's boxed in
Palace jacket match the army fatigue
I chuck a P
money, let the hoes keep throwin'
I once met a tender, she did it for free
On the Foothill bus number forty-three
All the way on the back she was
Yo, yo, cool, turn me up
Yo, yo
Turn me up, man
Unh
One, two, three, four, five
You know what we doin', let's do it
Oh, yeah
Can't never force myself
On the Foothill bust number forty-three
All the way on the back she was workin' me
Had my big beatbox and I was jammin' the beat
I met this freak named aunt
Aim for big goals and I ain't missin'
He call me up for the shoot
I got strait A's, fuck school
Time cost 3 times what the shoes
I got Gas gas by
dream, my team gonna own that
Riding, through the city, with the whip, on, CC
Setting, my, sights, on the sea, no, 3P
Oh, my, word, where's he headed now?
a few more zeroes or them numbers is inaccurate
Griselda, nigga
Ayo, million dollar deals at the cocaine spot, nigga
At the cocaine spot, nigga
I
words nigga duffel bags I just know it so well
I can't help but brag, old man got 10 mail man got 3
And just your luck the rap game got me hold up
from us
we the spot runners
i'll snatch your land like colombus
take crews in large numbers
who'll be the 1st to seal their fate
realise
Time is discreet
Open your eyes
So you can see
Whats built inside
Of you and me
I got one two three four bangers on my catalog
One two three mammies
whoa, whoa
Molly, molly, molly me
Bitches fuck me by the three
They can't quit jumping me
I pushed they wig back
The judge acquitted me I did that
So
nikdo z nás není dávno mimino
Živijo! děláme to aby nás jednou živilo
To naše studio rouge každá bitch bude brzy už
Moje album proč mám až 3 sloku?
Hochů
You should know by now your doubt is cheap
Four mixtapes and three EPs
And two albums, head up in the clouds
I'm gunning for the mountain peak (mountain
and the jewelry
Three weeks later, I'm at the P-A-D
Had a little fly ass bitch wit me
Sittin' in a dig, yo it couldn't be
(What up G?) Saw my face on TV
not know me I might up and
Leave
And I'm slight showy I like touchin'
P's
You not my only I got one in the
Three
So listen close it might be what ya
them hop in an album that's no skips
Dead or alive, they talk of their top five
I'm trying to be in that number like the saints marching in
Been
debris
And bad programs of landmines
That remind me of the sexiest of slow jams
I pull a Glock or fiver murder the group by numbers
I was nursed by
my album's gonna flop
wondering if I'm gonna hit Billboard top,(I don't know)
why this world got so much hate
if there was that much love it would all
shoulder... ? Aw, you're fulla shit, man... ah, listen, by the way, before I go on; did you get those white albums I sent ya with the pencil on the front... ?
bodies right my heart and mind was like "Dick her"
But wit my body aching from hurl sensation that's got me shaken
I swiftly took the number and passed
Discuss these by number album 3 p 473873 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