Lyrics:
the speed of sound
Ooh, it's a killing machine
It's got everything
Like a driving power
Big fat tyres and everything
I love it and I need it, I feed
stay alive
Out in these streets
Man, sometimes it can get so tough
Yeah, yes, it can, yes, it can, yeah
It can get so hard, so hard, so hard
call it suicide
I ain't playin, I'm just praying its a homicide
Its 1017 that mean its time for BSM
Bread to win, that's for Pop Joe and Bos
bothers you
You've got not reason to
Worry about nothing other than keeping up appearances
It must be so hard to be you
All you indie girls
Ain't got
Pretty hard, need cash, my dream
Working really hard
But didn’t got regonized by the way
And so on, what can I do? Deal with it
What can I do,
people been here
I see all of her friends here
Guess she don't have the time to kick it no more
Flight's in the morning
What you doin' that's so
I'm like John Marston in the club with a (BURRO)
She got ass so fat that's what I call a (CULO)
Wanna dance dance dance back it up yeah I'm thorough
of the game, that flood the state
In a stretch Phantom, with more Windows than Bill Gates
(Chorus)
(Nelly)
Uhh, uhh, Joey Crack!
(Fat Joe)
Yeah,
I hope none of this makes you think less of me
I get it's not easy feeling hard done, I am just having fun
Stick with me, get two cents of wisdom
496 I'ma lead that
Fat Joe
Lean Back uh
Call me Paramedics he need that
Get the breesh no bitch you could keep that
Two guns I suggest you run
Cause
madder at me when I finish part three of my confessions
You don't know how hard it is for me to tell you this,
But remember that shirt that you got me
fat like obese
It's hard to be so lowkey
Niggas acting like they know me
Fuck around and be the police
Trust no nigga nor a bitch
Nigga, I'm so OG like
every time I make love
I can’t let a nigga catch me slipping while I’m slidding in it
Sell it by the whole so don’t call if you ain’t buying any
I been in
hand, got it out the mud
Rappers in the industry see me and give me hugs
Then they gossip with their partners in private, I've seen it done
Fat boy you
twenty-five words
And uh, I couldn't do it, I wrote out five pages
And uh, I have it here
It's uh, have it by accident, actually, ha
But-but I, I-I'd like
and he smells obscene
Something's happened and it's not so good
broken bottles in the face of love
Mottled flesh under the harsh strip-light
Nylon
We get money ball hard get money ball hard
Get it, get it
As I was riding through the city in my S550
Bad bitch nice titties ass fat like really
smokin' on that shit
Blue not my black shit walking with my black bitch
Can't even see her in the dark
She sucks so hard, gonna leave a mark
Adventure
Ahh...
I`m here and it`s clear I`m gonna flow so yo black
Just get on up or yo get the bozak
'Cause it ain`t Kojak or Dr. Suess
It`s the kid
James
To hell with the bitches and the so-called fame (uh-huh)
Strictly biz to hard (kid yeah) as I climb charts
Bustin ass daily as I compose like
Ahh...
I'm here and it's clear I'm gonna flow so yo black
Just get on up or yo get the bozak
'Cause it ain't Kojak or Dr. Suess
It's the kid
It's my time (Rick Ross)
It's my time (Finna' lay back on this shit man)
(Dade County dope boy)
I'm not a slim thug, I'm a fat mack
I don't
Ahh...
I'm here and it's clear I'm gonna flow so yo black
Just get on up or yo get the bozak
'Cause it ain't Kojak or Dr. Suess
It's the kid
Ahhh that's a fine cup of joe.
A damn fine cup of joe by golly
Welcome welcome, gather round, gather round my plump little dumplings
And you tweekers
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