Lyrics:
is?
That's right, Macklemore, of course, today has been crazy
Anyway, you ready? We'll give you a hundred thousand dollars
After your album comes out
I sit by the phone but I haven't heard
Both eyes stomach-sized in diameter
And you know that money's for managers
Yeah I know that money's for
eye on the time remember them days bruh thought he was sliding
Frontline shit I be serving the wock fake ass crack you can tell by the rock
Ain't got
I dropped banger albums back to back
Whatever it takes to put the city on the map
The lost souls just keep fallin through the cracks
Ridin in our old
linen by Armani, check it
My lyrical carjack, make your brains splat
High caliber gats is all I fuck with, now peep the rough shit
in my circumference,
linen by Armani, check it
My lyrical carjack, make your brains splat
High caliber gats is all I fuck with, now peep the rough shit
in my circumference,
late my
Eyes start looking oriental
And this pen is so temperamental, it's mental
I get money but you still see me in a rental
Shaking the petrol pump
wanna go back to your city beat
By a little teen, just a kid from the bay
West side what I'm repping today
Yes I hit the level of best five in the state
nothin’
Money been doublin’
American Hustler, y’all know the deal
Stay over there, we stay over here
Step on my paper, make something clear
Both my eyes
some forces got two by the pair
Best friends with Ben Frank
Honest nigga I been frank
Check my bank it's full of O's
Look at yours been blank
Yacht I'm
is, gangstas
That is...
Chorus: gangstas make the world go round, gangstas make the world
Go round,
I know, I know
Gangstas...round, gangstas..round,
feared by the brave
I let the sun shine through
My window pane
And finally it's clear to me
The blessing is change
Me, I play this game
Like the panpipes:
try me
All they get is 50 cent franks and papayas
From the village to the telly
Time to kill it on your belly no question
Had more black chicks between
umm..goddamn... uh what the fuck, what time is it?
i swear i parked my car... shit
aye... light hit my face sun brought the heat
open my eyes see my
Whoa!
A get your hands in the air, and get to clappin 'em
And like, back and forth because ah
This is, what you thought it wasn't
It beez,
whip to see what's in my pocket
Suit up mute up
Now I gotta move in silence
Money on the low I ain't gotta prove nothing
But I always Ben Frank cause I
less than a minute
I don't have the heart to win it
This itch is back, I'mma stick it in it
I'm bout to relapse any minute!
I don't see any way that I
shouldn't have to say much more
I been through more crews than a flute, yeah I'll show ya
This is so damned scrap I betcha bro don't know ya
You tried
words are found
Let it be known that God's penmanship has been signed
With a language called love
That's why my breath is felt by the death
And while
define this
You see everything I did it myself
So why I really got to sign this
Just so you can put it back up on the shelf
Yo this is not the end for me
pick a tougher task. See who the fuck'll last
Whoever lose'll get a solderin' iron up the ass
You need to recognize
My hand is quicker than the eye
at me if I laugh at y'all
In this rat race Sinatra bout to pass you all
No rat pack
But real rap back
Heroin flow, minus the needles and the nap sack uh
keep the tool right by my side
Backwood the only way I get high
Life will change right in front of your eyes
Live it up, it’s a wonderful time, yeah
the wind blows,
The olives blood is shallow,
Frank Edwards is my name,
And I went to fight in Spain
Back home I had grown into a man,
The Church said no
.jpg/228px-Frank_Sinatra_(1957_studio_portrait_close-up).jpg "Frank Sinatra")
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