Lyrics:
All we got us is a 3, but your friends are still allowed
Head back to the lab time for workin on my craft
Let me get it how I get it put your input if I
New York
At twenty, I said I'd better quit by thirty
Then by thirty, I thought by forty rapping is corny
How wrong was I?
Never would have thought
Smokin' fcukin' fags is really really great
Chuffin on the reg, having a laugh with your mates
Cheap fags made by some bloke in Albuquerque
I'll smoke
really got is stacks of baggage
Gotta unload and pace your balance
Gotta face dubs to make some Jackson's
Catch me swerving all through the traffic
Easy, back up, turn your radio
Turn your radio off
Watch me now, baby, baby
Uh uh, uh uh
Bitches in my ear, they saying they love me
You don't
you got it how you want it now
I’m tired of it
Yeah I’ve seen the photographs
I’m tempted by your hologram
But that doesn’t me we gotta act
assume
When you hit your first neden
your homies was in the other room
Homies yeah thats my dog
Homies cause were down by law
Homies everything that we are
my stance
D boy
But you know I got that diddy bop
Ain't a nigga gonna front
Like I don't setup shop
Hit a lick then I'm back in
(In)
Not waiting for
Yeh
Yeh
Don't forget to tip your Budtendeeer, yeh
Yah yah
Pull up on that kid I'm your Budtender
Don't forget to tip your Budtendeeer, yeh
Got three
life was a movie scene
I'd rewind and I'd tell me run
We were never meant to be
So if I had a time machine
I'd go back and I'd tell me run, run
Oh your
door live it up
Got the champagne, pour me a cup
Got the girls looking raw in the front
Got a call your man's in town
Tell the bar, a-nother round
out, he saw a light and thought he'd found God
Only then to wake, right back inside this town, lost
Cold but he don't care much, his only friend was
the hate there
It's been a bait year It flew by quick if I had one wish
I'd go back & I would wait there
I ain't tryna reach the top charts
I do this for
Ayy, back in the days, I was nickel and dimin'
They want my soul, but won't give me a diamond
I want it all, I'ma dig in your pockets
She wanna fuck
"I've seen your kind before
G-d, I let the signs fly right on by
Waited till my spirit was laid low
But now my eyes are open wide
This time I see
Get ready for the judge in me
Its coming over
Get on your feet
All my goodness is all I got for you
Have I shown you lately
What my clan can do
tight
Some of it still is, but a lot of it is street hype
Back when I was praying I would make it
This ain't what I thought it'd be like, despite -
the double strap,
How your shit stay at the funeral,
Bring my rubber back.
Chicks are fuckin' with the wrong one
Yea I gotta show,
Tell em but I got
the double strap,
How your shit stay at the funeral,
Bring my rubber back.
Chicks are fuckin' with the wrong one
Yea I gotta show,
Tell em but I got
shit
But a young teen
Went back over to the 6 speed
Got up in it told em they aint Feel shit
I was rolling with a fat grin
Cause my green safe
And my
The only price she
Thought was right
That made the writing
Fee but by then if your
Hustle was hustle then
Your hustler wouldn't
Be plugged for the
Rightful
that time, when my soul kicked back in
I tried to move my fingers or something, got nothing
But dirt hitting the top from them shoveling, I'm fucked
Sorry for cussing
Fuck you niggas
I'm back, Mr. Magic City
Blowin' color purple, I make it rain on your forehead
You woulda thought I had a fan
Sorry for cussing
Fuck you niggas
I'm back, Mr. Magic City
Blowin' color purple, I make it rain on your forehead
You woulda thought I had a fan
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