Lyrics:
Artist: E.S.G. f/ D-Reck, D-Gotti, Noke D
Album: City Under Siege
Song: Thugs in Heaven
(*talking*)
Fuck that shit, I done lost another-another one
Talking:Cuz I'm tellin you man they ain't nothing else to talk about
the same shit every motherfuckin album, I don't give a damn how many he put
out
actually shall stand
For my clan, if I shall be that man
Only see red, I eat like Pac-Man
You only see black, you beat by Batman
You only see black, you see
crawl and hit rock 'n' roller
I'm caught in the swinging, hear no ties by the Pendulum
Just ???, so this is how I'm killing them
K is on the M.P., Jazz is
Yea...
Aye man... real talk
I wasn't even gon fuck with this rap shit no more
You know what I'm saying
Money straight
I dont even like attention like
most my favorite albums had covers by Pen & Pixel
My pops had that 5.0, no tinted windows
Swear i used to rock Geneva's with pride, til Pimp had dissed
Level 10 album; emoji flames/im from da bottom of da P 10/we was raised in the rain12/So what they talk about/Real Niggaz; they only talk bout/I'm da
terminator
My brains can hurt a nigga
Use them red lightly
Lyrically burn a nigga
Cause im gettin you by wetting you
I'm telling you bust rounds like
This song dropped Jae P hit my line like we gotta murk it
I told him twelve a.m. meet me there
In case you ain't notice by now, we been winning,
that you got fleas for not cleaning yourself
I came here to knock you out
But you smell like you haven't mopped the floors in five years
Like P
that you got fleas for not cleaning yourself
I came here to knock you out
But you smell like you haven't mopped the floors in five years
Like P
people be on, but anyway
Let's go
Hold on, hold on, hold on, again
I just gotta say P.S. Bruh like
I suck at doing like speeches on albums bruh like
I suck
filled with potions
Strip her out of clothes and then I rub her with some lotion
I told them I was chosen and they act like I was joking
I ain't joking
Now
Standin' on the corner of Royal Street,
On a Sunday afternoon
Out there by the old A & P
Barefoot in the sun in June.
I saw her playin' with the
Big
She threw it back, so I had to double track
I put my dick up in your bitch and your bitch is liking that
She like damn, poppa p3rk going to town
I
masons
Pregnant teens give birth to intelligent gangsters they daddies faceless
Play this, by ya stomach, let my words massage it and rub it
I'll be his
of songs people really feel shit" told me he was proud and took a blunt to the face and I said
"I feel like this rap shit ain't working, no money coming in
Late nights when my son asleep
I'm workin' by myself Dolo all up on my street
Nobody on my block 'cus I be workin' way passed three
And when I
You will get hit by my Creshendo
You can't keep up with my Tempo
I will not leave you in Limbo
You know that you can't keep up with my tempo
You
in the parking lot, hatters you can like or not.
North kacky lacky, and you know I’m looking for the spots.
Mili keep looking for me, until my album
scratched, pronto
Bill and fame make magic like premier and, Eddie Sancho
(Yo where you been kid?) I don't know, gettin' ready for war
Parlayin' with ebony
R.I.P. Ty-Ro may he rest in peace
He died 9 years ago when his album released
I'm not sure anybody heard it when it hit the streets
It had a cute
beaters
Out, doin their damn thing like beavers
Yo, its P to the H-O, I finish the job
Plus my Dominican Broad
Making me chili con queso
Work
like papa
These bitches gon' talk but they really don't wanna
Yo mom in at the crib and we fuckin like llana'
I'm counting this money like yeat
Bitch you
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