Lyrics:
both took a toke
The cow got high and the boy got by
Just don't come in my face and ask me why
Cheeba Cheeba ya'll
Yeah it's that cheeba cheeba
Whole lotta niggaz be dissing
I don't pay attention
Cause I know that these niggaz hoes
I fucked on that bitch, cause she missed me
I shouldn't have
p-pump that
Pump that
Pump that bass
Motherfucker, say what?
Donald B's in the place to give me the pace
He said my man JD is on freebase
The boy
stand on your feet
theres still a lotta fish in the sea
do your best don't waste your shit
Letsgoooooooo
go go go little boy go
go go go little boy go
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't
The kids in school by the 3rd grade, all had doubts and lots to say…
“One man can’t fly all around the world,
And make a toy for every boy and girl.”
the one gettin' chased by a bad bitch
Livin' lavish yeah I'm bagged in
Yeah I'm bagged in yeah I'm that man
On my own road lots of traction
I don't get
to me
You wanna get in? Put a sucker's head out
Sound a little hot for you, boy? Then, toy, get out
Syndicate mob ain't nothin but hardened crooks
You
the car lot, got a new toy (skrrt)
I got a backpack full of blue boys (stacks)
On the way to Eliantte in New York (ice)
Man, I got a trunk full of blue
round
Let me slow it down
Smoking on Os of that reefa
Shooting for goals like Fifa
Oh that's my dough my pita
Turn that boy into pizza
Grown man
before I do a favour , boy
Never throw the towel in , that's not up in my nature , boy
Started at the bottom now it's top floor nigga
Top Boy is what
(let's go)
I feel Like Stephen Craig (yeah)
Put a bounty on you now your man's dead (bitch)
Niggas be talking that shit till they end up in the mother
to just stroll the park with this Chaka
Baby girl was just diggin' all in my pockets (all in my pockets)
I was going hard (by the magic hour)
We were
Pull up with a 2 by 2
I don't think you know my woes
Gotta watch out for my Bros
Lotta Serpents on the Road
Racks on racks
The paperchase don't end
the lessons that you taught me
Money couldn't play the part of making me the man you did
But maybe its gon feel better flying to my posie in a choppa In
a lot of practice on black boys' jimmys and white boy's cactus.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, but I gotta be brief:
A lotta niggas like bustin' nuts in her teeth.
a whole lotta knowing how to rap, no cap
I'm young free and happy
That's a God-given combo I might just
Move to a condo in a city I've never heard of
Open
hated by All
Hated by all And it's kinda unclear to me
You see the way I'm rappin what im packin in these lucky jeans
This white boy look
Ima laughing
Too many wannabe badboys flexin' like they're so rowdy
Look a badboy straight in the face, tell him I'm a real bad boy, fuck Mike Lowery
I don't
whips, it's a little different
Then what they in vision being me these days
It's hard to stay the same I remain real for those that feel the pain
You can
Poppin out like a hoe in the alleyway
Charged up like I'm hooked to a battery
Middle finger to the ones that would laugh at me
Little homie poppin' out
run around with these SZAs (yeah)
I prefer to just stroll the park with this Chaka
Baby girl was just diggin' all in my pockets
I was going hard (by
Ween never scared
Who care bout all what they said
We litty in it yea
Money paper bag yea
We call that monkey bread
Lull mama got that back yea
She throw
just enough room to cram the drums
In the corner over by the dodge
It was a fifty-four
With a mashed up door
And a cheesy little amp
With a sign
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