Lyrics:
inside the G-wagon (damn)
Fucked her one time and she won't stop braggin' (damn)
Half a mil' cash, all Andrew Jacksons
Got a project bitch, look like
to B.Y.'s
Muffled lives, like a pit bull at will
Sit still, or you're shook real, y'all niggas need to get real, or get killed!
The 4-fifth, call the men
Owww!
Get on down [x3]
[Erick Sermon]
Well, it's the E wit the juice, I'm down to get loose
Strapped in black wit the nine by the boots
Well, I got a gal, she lives up on the hill
Well, I got a gal, she lives up on the hill
Well, this woman's tryin' to quit me, Lord, but I love her
flip bricks, These boys flip tons
One time Fat Joe, Rest In Peace Big Pun
This how I do it do it
Spit English and Spanish fluent
Then if you don't
I've got a dusty old pile of vinyl records sittin' on my floor
I've played each one of 'em over and over a dozen times or more
All I've got is
Got a call from a friend about a friend
It's news no one ever wants to hear
It hit me like a punch, it took my breath
He was just getting into his
live in a vacuum, I ain't got but no one"
Listen up, son
Everyone creating is a member of the family
Passing down genes and ideas in harmony
the postman stood and laughed
He'd delivered t sweet Mis Jackson's box the day before
But Sam's the man he's got a plan to lay his pipe once more
He's
as the wardrobe goes
All those ain't your clothes
The product placement videos with no logos
You got a chain, no glow
Got a deal, no dough just the same
Joe small
to face
A bottle of red, a bottle of white
It all depends upon your appetite
I'll meet you any time you want
In our Italian Restaurant
Things are
Well, the good times scratched a laugh
From the lungs of the young men
In a Deadwood saloon, South Dakota afternoon
And the old ones by the door
joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits please
there's 5 more acres in the lower 40 i got to plow
mama said was a shame about billy joe
Simply out of this world by choice
The world's too much for the soul to enjoy
I focus on the void and I fill it
Hopin' the depressed ain't give
tracking poor old Joe
They're trying to keep him in their sights
They're counting his sins two by two
On their barbed wire abacus at night
He's got a Molotov
is a mean old world to live in,
And I can't face it all by myself, at all.
And, dogs begin to bark,
All over my neighborhood.
The dogs begin
I see you watching me like a hawk
And I don't mind the way you talk
But Lord protect me something's got to give
I live the life I love and I love
happen, (Yeah) and I don't need Kathy or Joe to make some Jackson's. All I need is mr. Grant and his friend Ben. See all these Dead Presidents names end in
Brodie spend all of his cash on clothes, I guess he live for likes
I got so much goin' on, if I do it right, I'm lit for life
Pull up foreign, everybody
say what they mean
Will live and die by their own sword
I dig their friends, I dig their shoes
They are like a child with nothing to lose
In their
what you got
and if I like it I'll cop
[Fifty]
Damm nigga, you hot
you talkin' like you tryin' to get a nigga knocked
what time is it? man, it's
get blammers and hammers, do damage and
I'm like a Nobu Street activist, flooded with shines
Jackson 5 before Motowns, I get better with time
Run
to live this life
You got to find your song and just sing it
And there's a better way to feel alright
Let it all go and let love take control
I just
live in a vacuum, I ain't got but no one"
Listen up, son
Everyone creating is a member of the family
Passing down genes and ideas in harmony
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