Lyrics:
have this
Intellectual capacity that I
Possess i'm sick of old and senile people
Running for president we need to have a
Young 37 year old in the White
count you friend
Not since the day you cast me off
Like a burr from on your skin
No, young writer
I did not steal your pen
If you lost it in my company
through these young ass niggaz
When I walk into the Lyricist Lounge, lyricists lounge
Cause niggaz know that Bumpy Knucks'll tear this mutha down
Cause
young I used to vandal
Giving girls the comfort like a foot and a sandle
Always help another brother, never running scandals
And if I hit the skids,
young I used to vandal
Giving girls the comfort like a foot and a sandle
Always help another brother, never running scandals
And if I hit the skids,
a diver
Let's see who comes out a survivor
Show ya, the E's eva young as a writer
Young baby father, still a provider
P's in the pocket and everything's
fella filmed me
"A young singer-writer like a Gabriella Cilmi"
'Cause you need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you
You need
to the dope fiends (and smoke)
Blowing money, stay clean (Freebandz)
Michael Jackson, Billie Jean
Got a Panamera 'round a young nigga neck
Got a young
Whipping up a cake, just to go and snatch a spider
Young nigga play with keys, like a type writer
Al Capone, John Gotti was a nigga idol
I was never
to the dope fiends (and smoke)
Blowing money, stay clean (Freebandz)
Michael Jackson, Billie Jean
Got a Panamera 'round a young nigga neck
Got a young
On a warm November night in 1930
She was simply heading back
Regular journey
Molly was only young
Writer, bohemian
Mitford and Milton
Provided
asking for ev'rything
From an older lady you told me once or twice
That a new arrangement could be nice
You have a drink with a friend
And he's a young
walk
And if I ran my mouth then
My legs would get cut off
I'm just a young boss in the batcave
Back against the wall
I came back with them back pains
the brother is all man, my ink stay wet, my feather razor
Sharp, I'm a big league verse writer, a big bat that pop, young thad old school, sounds
Smooth to me,
lean than Pimp C (mud)
I'm that young nigga, turn your main bitch to a freak (thot)
They like Glock you off the leash, got 'em jumpin' off they seat
young men ceased from their music
for the kitchen our women they missing
see them for the streets loose chicks now chickens
our kids now cultists
mattered to you
How a thousand virtues
Kick the same bucket like Chinatown turtles
Roving packs of elusive young become
Choke-lore writers over boosted
(FOREVERROLLING)
Y'all ready?
What we doin'? Yeah, yeah
Come on, yeah, yeah
One-six ('Crae, Phew)
Ayy, young boy got bands on me (bands)
Mama
YESTERDAY WHEN I WAS YOUNG
Writers Charles Aznavour, Herbert Kretzmer
Yesterday when I was young the taste of life was sweet as rain upon my tongue.
Another young girl and another young guy
Another blue shirt and another red tie
A good writer writes, a great writer steals
A good dog sits but
(interlude)
Legit music
Beatmotion
Writer(s): Young Presh
to factories and farms
He's a writer and ranger and a young boy bearing arms
He's got a problem with his powers
His weapons on patrol
He's got to walk a fine
to factories and farms
He's a writer and ranger and a young boy bearing arms
He's got a problem with his powers
His weapons on patrol
He's got to walk a fine
Swagged out new louis belt
Young nigga Ouu he fresh as Hell
Why you niggaz talking loose as Hell
I Fucked your bitch haha Screw ya self
You know me
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