Lyrics:
Screamin', "Fuck the world," like 2Pac
I just don't give a fuck!
Talkin' that shit behind my back, dirty mackin'
Tellin' your boys that I'm on crack
I just
Screamin', "Fuck the world," like 2Pac
I just don't give a fuck!
Talkin' that shit behind my back, dirty mackin'
Tellin' your boys that I'm on crack
I just
Screamin', "Fuck the world," like 2Pac
I just don't give a fuck!
Talkin' that shit behind my back, dirty mackin'
Tellin' your boys that I'm on crack
I just
I pray you find a nigga with goals and point of views
Much broader than the corner, if not it's gon' corner you
Into a box, where your son don
lucky, my God! Flight of Icarus in those grubby dirty by now horribly sticky little fingers and
hands and grubby palms, and oh what else is grubby, I don
I laugh in my snaps, don't chuck it
Everybody's talking light so fuck it
Boy, if I spit on your tune, I'll buss it
Yeah
Scary
(Sounds of the)
I don't care about your album and whenever it drop
I don't care about your past if I did I woulda asked
I'm too busy lightin 'dro with a whole lotta
he sayin': "you gon' do som'
Do it one hunnid percent or
Don't do nothin' at all"
When I was 19 I started doin' this rap
Shit and I be killin' it ever
and mustard
Yeah, my cheeks are hella red but
I don't ever get flustered
Owned by a country star again
Write a song about it motherfucker church
Shoutout
Everybody put your hands up
Cause you know the world don't give a damn about us
Now everybody keep your hands up
Cause this cold world is showing no
I know you a bitch, lil boy
So don't even trip, lil boy
I'm just tryna get rich, lil boy
I'm just tryna hit a lick, lil boy
That thang by my hip, lil
What about one plus one
Jamais de fumer sans feu
Jt'au volant d'un album number on
Jamais de fumer sans beuh
J'arrete si j'le veux pis i stop if i
disgrace
Boys I'll erase you boys to mincemeat
Human means T, O's, N's, why's this is just a tease before my album
No bum acts out, I'm out to parlay you
impressed with all that fuck-boy rap
Don't know why they so impressed with all that frat-boy rap
No pun intended, but your album sounds rushed like that
Man,
back like Ed Lover, "Come on, son"
She's on my Johnson, she brings my name up constant
Your boys are like, "She's fuckin' with dude, she wants some"
you've been talking 'bout this shit)
(Bro, just drop the fucking album)
Yeah, yeah
I don't belong on this Earth
I see my name in the stars
I want it so
the 411, hun?)
I know you got it going on
(Hey yo, I got it going on) (I'm a bad boy)
As I sit back relax
Steam a blunt, sip a Becks
Think about
album and not show up
How the hell could you slow us
Got by myself nothing was for us
Don't try to come pour up
I know how to get down but trust I go up
yet
Don't doubt Sarajevo Noise Beat it'll put you into debt
We makin these albums, and it makes a lotta sense
That they make almost no sense
We're
the Chevy scrape
4th album, no 5 mics? Then let 'em hate
But I'm not stopping 'til I'm the fucking king in every state
Recognize my life
Ridicule my fight
the liquor
Them dirty South boys will get yet
Throw up your guns and bust a slug and be pure scripture
Whatcha gone do when them niggas run up to you
Don
an agreement
To leave this boy right there he's chosen
His body noticed by the highest of forces
And you will never get his soul nor emotions
That boy way
speaking the truth Cause he don't believes in lies
LA Legend with John legend Singing by ya side
In maybach on ya album cover Look at the sky
A G member
Brian ... the babe they called Brian
Grew ... grew grew and grew, grew up to be
A boy called Brian
A boy called Brian
He had arms and legs and hands
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