Lyrics:
on the surface you might've fallen
Oh fuck what you heard
You believe that shit
Stop by and wave till they in your pockets
I know what I'm doing right now
I know
tell me
I'm just a singer in a rock and roll band
A thousand pictures can be drawn from one word
Only who is the artist?
We gotta agree
managing to fuck around
Got big dawg on the phone line
I say the word and easier to pout
Your main girl wear her love make up
By it you're the one who's
a lot of them bands (Bands)
Still got a lot of them mad
Old bread, new drip, fake hoes, fake bitch
They called, who this? Stank lips sink ships
Still got
Rocking my bands like a Man With a Mission
Move like a chef, I’m always in the kitchen
I been told more than once to stop bitchin’
Are you existing
hide
Got a band new chimney put on top, and it's a-made out of human skull
Come on take a little walk with me baby, and tell me who do you love?
Who
bands on me, don't I smell like money
I got these hundreds on me
Jeans too skinny, they bustin' the seams
They know it's money when I'm on the scene
Four
you see fit
Writin' at a desk, diggin' in a ditch, who's ass you gotta kiss?
So come on now, jump right in 'cause life goes by so fast
How many
a heart 'til it's a broken
I know you're the one who can break the mold
Iverson was like, told me practice
I don't need a mic 'cause the fact is
I'm
like Com-Cast
Left Coast District, on smash
I'm the next addition, just do the math
The only missing link to
The movement was Fash
You can tell by
jeans on, with a band-t donned
Right hand horns drawn and I'm lookin kinda slack jawed
LVE? You must be frontin'
Less than half you punks, do dirt in
slam
I'm sinking whiskey and you're sipping fine wine
I don't know what it is you're trying to prove
Well it should be you but it's me who can
on the Whitey so
See just Black and White?
There's no room for that in the '90s, yo
I'm still a bill and still checkin' mics
One-two a whole year later
Made you
them digits where the bands man
Lemme be truthful
I just found a loophole
I don’t care who i lose no more
I ain’t tryna lose no
So if you wanna leave you
nightmare
They really love me from LA to Japan
Did a couple million views
Now I need a million bands
Gotta watch who you call your mans
I don't got too many
If it ain't cheetah, Then goodbye
Is hard to trust somebody
Who double face and full of lies
I'm fighting all demons, Thought you'll be with me by my
but I'm keeping my cool
And I told 'em in my hood I'm the man
You look good on the gram
But you see how I look better with these bands in my hand
I'm
Yeah
You hurda me
Nah
Ain't No Comparison
What's a Supra to a Benz
What's a paper to a pen
Who got cash no card
Who got bands on hand
I got more
Band aid like I'm Nelly bitch
Get on the floor
Watch my J's
Like I'm Nelly bitch
All this cash fall watch It rain
Chillin wt the hooligans
Who you
Ye ye ye ye ye ye
Shit, who your mans?
Contraband
I'm so Tony Stark, Ronda Rous
On the heart
I got big money on heart
Big, big money
Big, big, big
Yea they say I'm a menace
Ice on my neck no tennis
When I walk around I collect my check
Cause 2% has no limit
Yea you know 2% winning
Yea you know I
who Hendrix was
And then Ian Brown
I'm like: you're takin' the fuckin' piss out me man
Lingo like nonsense
All that from the floppy-eared beautiful
Smoke more ounces than a steak
By myself, who I can hate on
Nowadays I'm the one the bad bitches wait on
And she gone wait all day long
Then suck me
gon' hit 'em hard
Running niggas down back and forth
I'm like pass the torch
Blast it off
Niggas making bets so who gonna blast him off
First to score
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