Lyrics:
Crack my head open on your kitchen floor
To prove to you that I have brains
Meanwhile tin men are led by little girls
Down golden roads that lead
must I point you in the right direction
You need protection when I'm on the mic
Because my mouth is like a 9 millimeter windpipe
You're a king, I'm
must I point you in the right direction
You need protection when I'm on the mic
Because my mouth is like a 9 millimeter windpipe
You're a king, I'm
on in, please take off your shoes
Everybody, welcome to my house of blues
Make yourself comfortable kick your feet back
Don't forget to leave your shoes by
of sins
No my body is limp
Smokin weed since ever since
Seapin seas like he the men
Play the radio of sins
Did you hear the news
Of A radio so cruel
off of my lawn
Put 'em in my little house
Where all of 'em belong
Guess the checklist is already done
Was that a car crash? What's going on?
Who's
if he stayed in the streets
How a little boy made him finally grow
Used to get beats with a wooden spoon
Used to get beats
If I ain’t cleaned my room
of you
I went wandering
I went drifting
Through the capitals of tin
Where men can't walk
Or freely talk
And sons turn their fathers in
I stopped
pose to been had dat 745
Nigga u pose to been had dat tiger in ya house
But I'm in da hood with a dollar and a rhyme
Sometimes I feel dat place my only
Jumping out of traffic in a little Beamer
Got the opps names tatted
On my trigger finger, ah!
Ayo, bricks in the Louis V duffle
Masterpiece collection
your problem, I'm the topic of the talk again
Half a dollar to my name I hustle more than many men
Good God I'm gracious
Whipping dope in a pale now,
(Mason)
Picture this, little Fred out there really hittin' licks
By 15 he's locked in jail but no one didn't visit him
It's cool though, 'cause
No mountin' up upon a little saddle, uh-uh
These little rabbits all hoppin' if I bust out my Trix
I'm keepin batches in satchels, about to grind me
the big oak tree
Time went by and it didn't work out
I still bought that little white house
Now I write songs about how I feel
Still living in downtown
up high
By my mother with twigs
That curl around
The black trim frame and hang
Red berries cover
Some of the farmer's faces
We sit, the twelve of us
was witchcraft. Then in my late 30s, I must've had a chemical change in my body. I had a little asparagus one night. Later that night, I'm at a bar. I'm
dick like a Visa
I run it through and money come out
Running your mouth, I'll have somebody run in your house
Ravel your spouse and have a little fun
dick like a Visa
I run it through and money come out
Running your mouth, I'll have somebody run in your house
Ravel your spouse and have a little fun
drive by
The helicopters, they fly over, I wave "hi"
The men in red throw gang
Signs when I skate by
I walk the line between South
Central and Van Nuys
cleanin houses
or migrating to catch each season of work:
canning salmon in Alaska
or picking asparagus in Washington
were not the dreams of Asian men
I prayed that God for My life o oh
Grace grace
I'm living in the spirit of grace
My life is full of grace
I'm from a house of grace
Them say I'm
that I prayed that God for My life o oh
Grace grace
I'm living in the spirit of grace
My life is full of grace
I'm from a house of grace
Them say I'm
one since birth.
"New York is number one today in the house!"
[El P]
I'll do the simple shit; strike harder than Hoffa.
El the maladjusted, MC
who I was)
She know that in GlizzyDre and she can't get enough
(She can't get enough)
I'm coming from a house where my Niggas ran it up
My bitch she
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