Lyrics:
Woke up in the morning
Sun shines through my window
Singing to me all day
I don't see too many soaring through my sky
Father God is right there by my
first album I was sitting
on the steps in front of my apartment when a gypsy
woman passed by. She stopped and asked me if I would
like my fortune read
a pretty face, a slim waist, sweet perfume
Can't believe this shit
Second week in June, second night in Cancun
Pop Cris' by the full moon and the stars is
And there he woke up, surrounded by the wolves
He wanted peace and quiet, now his clothes are torn
Their giant teeth emerge in his face
And he gets
a better album than blue face in two days
Did it by myself for so long I forgot how to ask for help
Need enough money to swim in Michael phelps
Y'all been
talkin' 'bout nothin' with a flow so disgustin'
Ashtray by me that I gotta dump my guts in
Need substance, feed it to the public
No one gon' touch it
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
while everybody eyein'
Add to that a constant fear of dyin'
By gunshot wound, or other violent type of endings
I kept a tough demeanor on the surface
Behavin' shadier than Wes Craven
And you ain't even gotta pay me
I take pleasure of laying a nigga down daily
You face me, drunk or sober, you'll faint
off
How, nigga? My last album was The Chronic (nigga)
They wanna know if he still got it
They say rap's changed, they wanna know how I feel about it
Gotta do what I gotta do
Yeah
Uh, all my exes live in Texas like I'm George Strait
Or they go to Georgia State where, tuition is handled
By
your face.
I rap so hard, you can't stop me.
My last album sold a million copies.
Me and the maestro, laying the beat.
DJ scratches from my homeboy
lightin' the green
I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam
Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails
Niggas throw us on they album
Behavin' shadier than Wes Craven
And you ain't even gotta pay me
I take pleasure of laying a nigga down daily
You face me, drunk or sober, you'll faint
watch face crystal clear
The other chick will give me heat while I shampoo her hair
Head tilted back baby no more tears
You mumblin' and shit duke my
profession.
Can't be effected by the Great Depression.
So if you want to be giant sized,
Come to my school. Get pimp-matized.
In your school, what do they
it
Some days I'm happy, some days I'm fucked up
Some days I tell the voice in my head to shut the fuck up
Yeah
Motivated by paper and pussy,
I'ma soldier!
Stick in my chrome receiver, and I fins to get it on
Influenced by the dolja
Blastin' at the rollers
Callin' couple of soldiers
sons grinnin
Mums gotta skits out, when she sees her new yard n kitchen
The C needs coachin
Put your'e album out, same day as us and we'll see who's
don't touch the crown
By the way, that's Uncle Brown
A gyal dem a run me down, cuh
Ayy, look Stormz this is soul baby
The kind of soul that gave
Stella
crowns
Get it in by 3 (yeah)
Baller of the week
See dollars when I sleep
Yeah on designer sheets
Yeah I'm on one
300 on the album
Niggas say I'm foul
Nigga
Eyes on horizon, Im just gonna push this whip there
Time to supply them the new ship up in air
Ima survivor, looking death in the face
This diamond
more karma hitchhiked from our last life to the backside of our mastermind
Too bad we blind, our Third Eye too calcified by fluoride to remember shit
the album your saving the date
Flow is so precious belongs in a safe
Good poker face got a pocket the ace
But I'm focused on me now it's a beat down
But I'm
Discuss these by face album westlife Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In