Lyrics:
fuckin' 'less she got it
I need money out her pockets (out her pockets)
You ain't ballin', nigga, stop it
If I got it, I'ma pop it, I'm in Neiman's with
true G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some different ghetto blocks
(West Coast kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots
He a Compton-Compton O.G
(Mix
true G)
(What you got's) A concoction of some different ghetto blocks
(West Coast kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots
He a Compton-Compton O.G
(Mix
under-developed there, hell if I care
What hardship you claim to see, but I can tell by your stare
N**** you fugazi, sayin ya crew blazin
like sayin Miss Cleo is
ain't that shit by now I'm soon to be
When I choke hold mics I
Don't give'em room to breathe
I'm just doing me
But girl if you're fine I'll do you free
By
the projects the objective is make dollars
'Where You At?' It ain't a problem to get it there by tomorrow
Cause I got a female friend, with frequent flier
got the drama, what you gonna do?
I couldn't stop my niggas if I wanted to
This that shit that make a nigga throw the West up
Black, brown, red,
appreciate you, ma, I can tell by the way he hold you
He don't love you like I can love you, or squeeze you like I squeeze
I'll make your neck pop back
the way of the world
It ain't got back, can't get back
You say it won't get back, shit I hope it don't get back
I'm creeping with you, sleeping with you
nigga
You're on, people got to wondering if it's a for sure song
Yes, I got another killer making a tour strong
If you thinking of battling, you
This next guest is my man bringing him back
It's a pleasure to have him here
Please give it for my brother Kanye west
Uh let me start by
Thanking you
Kanye West's Benz
'Cause I will turn you back to a pedestrian
They ask me what I do and who I do it for
And how I come up with this shit up in
because you love what I make
Now ain't that about a bitch
And I'ma talk shit until I'm out of hits
They don't want to turn they speakers up
They claim I
I got 'em
'Member me? I was drivin' Impalas
We don't beef, if it's problems, we solve it
I remember that D2 revolver I bought for my partna, he
pimp spit this rap, I don't like you anyway
[Chorus: x2]
This a man's game, stay up out the lane
If you can't hang with the gang bang
Players pimps
the stats to stunt, I don't need to front
Make Black history every day, I don't need a month
The survey says, by the streets according
Kanye's just
(Bongo ByTheWay)
(Mustard on the beat, ho) look
Pop Smoke, I'm on some west coast shit (Pop Smoke)
In New York, I got a west coast bitch (west
on
Play with him, bitch you better off voting for Donald Trump
I'm yelling Mr. Kanye West for president
He probably let me get some head inside
'm gettin' blisters
Roadkill, every time I pop out in a new whip
Gettin' you wacked, niggas ain't runnin' off with my new drip
Rolls hit, lights hit,
them, if you want that Red October- but
Legally, we gotta both sign that contract
Mark Parker i'mma put Mark Parker
All on that Summer
Jam screen and by
and this entice them how them joke the same
So I'm gonna sing just like them to get where they at
I'll even break my by back to touch their rim if I gotta
you know
That this game aint for no lame.
If you got heart, you can play this game.
But if your heart aint right,
We got a remedy for that, too.
up when I'm in the mood
Too! (run that) blow a blunt
Get a drink whatever soothes you! (whatever)
Cause if it ain't
The street the system'll lose you
got a prom picture in her key-chain
I told her, "Look
This ain't high school no more"
And I'm tryna fuck, we ain't cool no more
Some niggas go bald just
.jpg/225px-Kanye_West_at_the_2009_Tribeca_Film_Festival_(cropped).jpg "Kanye West")
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