Lyrics:
Song Title: Stars Align
Chorus One:
I ya ya I ya ya i ya ya ya ya ya ya I ya ya I ya ya i ya ya ya ya ya ya i ya ya i ya ya i ya ya ya ya ya ya i
come
Got a cool two million hiding
Until that case comes see
Me just a a riding to the bass drum
So if you feel me put ya blunts in the air
And blaze one
Think I was singin the blues
I thought that I'd be up by now
But guess I'm still paying dues
I fucked around and got high
And burnt a hole in my trues
something for ya (GUNSHOT)
C'mon I got something for ya (GUNSHOT)
C'mon I got something for ya (GUNSHOT)
C'mon I got something for ya
Represent convict
don't wanna waste away now
Got no place to stay, I'm online
Got no way out gonna give me a heart attack
What do I say now? Dear God, I pray now
Got no way
get em get em back back
get em
back back get em get em back back
get em
That boy's in trouble
F'in with that boy
tryin to get my bullets fly
got ya
you only call on the weekends
Only text back when ya creepin'
I ain't a fool
Cant play by your rules
I seen ya Callin'
Bout you only call
Shorty the Henny got me feelin' right
(Ya heard me?)
My momma gone, you can spend the night
(Ya heard me?)
I ain't playin', I'm tryna fuck tonight
shawty your too fine
Lil mama got a fatty I'm lovin' your waistline
Just like that I'll get the dollaz if ya wine
Twerk that nasty drop it a few times
ya, oh (I got plans, you got plans)
Let’s be friends, let’s be friends
Hey ya, hey ya, hey ya, oh (I got plans, you got plans)
Hey ya, hey ya, hey ya
a nigga like me got to represent
You know I'm sayin'? Check it out
Once again, back to rip shit, quick on the flip tip
The psycho, represent the real,
human feelings (huh)
Got a murder on my belt, it's holdin' up my denim (it's Gucci)
I'm keepin' the feds out my biz, you tryna put 'em in 'em (racks)
Woonda
Swing by to my hood and I'mma show ya, I'mma show ya
My glock 9 acting reckless, Can I show ya, Can i show ya
Swing back to your girl and I
deny it, no passin' by it, you gotta try it
I'm number one, public enemy power gotta fight it
I got my gun and my identity started a fuckin' riot
We
than the rest, I guess I gots ta prove it
Ya cruisin for a bruisin if ya bite it when I use it
See I'm quick to shoot the giff, and if ya tryin ta stop
in a place
Or buss up the whole place, betta buckle up
Befo I have yo Mami standin ova ya cold face
Ready to puck her up!
I'm so straight - I got my
up and hold you by ya cheeks till I make it leak
Face down ass up love to see them Tatts when you back up slurp it and I’ll give you what you ask for
It's ya nigga Ne-Yo, I come to get ya'll up
u got yo hands up and I aint even stick ya'll up
not anotha fa brothas with baby mothas
chicks in outfits
you could hold my ground
I could tell ya bout some shit you'd prolly know by now
If you'd been through half of it or ever strolled my route
My God
I
Back in the motha fuckin' booth man
Chronic & Cognac
Yea yea yea yea
I ain't never had nobody show me the ropes
So I got it own & started sellin'
Ferrari got the green
Smells caught in between, nigga doin his thing
What I'm sayin it's a hustler's pain
Bein rich by myself, it's a treacherous dream
a photo
Now That's worth the lotto
Raw of gelato
Don't trust in the bottle
Live by it die by it
That's just the motto
I got that work and way more work
Ill blow the engine out ya hemi no doubt
I'm New York cities pharaoh
Ill have you starin down the barrel
You got em good get em its cool hit em
call me top celebrity
Me bigga me badda mad hatta me callin it well and dead-ly
Me nah got no nine millimeter, me not want ya uzi
But I kill run
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