Lyrics:
operating rooms being fed by intravenus
seen as off the radar, my dark laser
will drop eight stars, and chop holes through quasars
a powerhouse, brute force
belong to me, pass her to my homie
That South boy of Middle G, in this G-A-M-E
are-E-S-P-E-see-T, to the day I D-I-E
Or unless you're a want to be, then
Welcome to the ghetto, where forever be the same
Hard times, got my people unable to maintain
Everytime I look around, it's somebody doing bad
That'll
lessons in independence
The twin professors wrecking your shop
We look alike, we get it a lot
He’s sort of a Kirk, he’s more of a Spock
There is no good
and bring the cunch lines back (brrt)
Fifty pebs in straight tens gone by lunchtime trap (trap)
Every spot I go, there's always Londoners and Scousers (no
Not every time a nigga heard me was felt
Look at my hands and just chose the cards I was dealt
Not everyone supported me but I was true to myself
him like I missed him
Life is the witch, and death is her sister
Sleep is the cousin, what an awkward family picture
You know father time, we all
subway your train of thought gotta run through
I'm by my lonely, so I might let the hawk show
Any block, I double-park, get out and walk slow
And nowadays
Nikes, by the caseload
But still good to fuck with a Becky like John Stamos
Taught to know that the rule of thumb was innuendos
And to slay the box
Oh my love always delivers
She expects nothing of me
Just sit here with her high by the river
In plain sight where no one can see
Way above all
who can't locate
One drop of oil in Texas state
Swagger through the White House gate
Thumb his nose at mankind's fate
With nobody to speculate
That dad
who can't locate
One drop of oil in Texas state
Swagger through the White House gate
Thumb his nose at mankind's fate
With nobody to speculate
That dad
cried and the cops were called
The day you said goodbye
Your father left his work by one or two
To a crying telephone his wife was on the other side
A boy alone in his mind he looks to the sky.
His home, the desert, this life to him a lie.
Not knowing tomorrow, or what he will face,
Led by a droid
ya ass off
Whassup white girl?
Drink, smoke, party ya ass off
You know you ain't got no ass to party off
But fuck it, we'll work wit'chu, it's Tha
passion
White folks they think I’m trappin, just by the looks of the fashion
I hit the road, I give and go, I’m getting dough
These hating ass niggas don’t
on squeezing
Like drip, drip, drip, drip, drip
Hold up me cup, me take a sip
Hold up me pinky, me think me rich
Me being foolish, me no pay rent
Me look
cherry
Happened to be wearing my white pants
I had a fart that turned to shart by chance
Teleporter
Take me far away
I don't want to be here anymore
gon'
Pass it or pop it
I still got a ratchet, a mask in the closet
Nigga
Ayo, I copped the Beamer with low mileage
I heard bein' broke by
People don't
blood ran cold, my heart stood still
As I pulled the covers over my head
A minute dragged by as I opened my eyes up
To find her at the end of my bed
on the low an alias, no names
(Big Dubez)
Yo Marlon, what you mean meet on Burke? you off the hook
If they out for a crook that's where they gonna look
walking
Surrounded by white walls
Young man take me to the heights
In the lowlands.
Back in time
A change in line
It's a different
State
you better chill
Or getcha grill, piece, torn by the beast
You get the claws
Across your jaws
Hear the roars
Now we gonna lock the doors
Your trapped in
end, look at how I spin it, warn might men, afro take revenge
thats' allright, cause my folks aint' jokes, I'm heard when I'm spoken, you catch me rope
.jpg/239px-Barry_White,_Bestanddeelnr_927-0098_(cropped).jpg "Barry White")
.jpg/220px-TheLook_(cover_art).jpg "The Look")
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