Lyrics:
this y'all
[Verse 1:]
Oh what a feeling! - Drivin' in my four by four
Girlies Galore! - B.I.G. on the door.
Chrome trimming - with the smoke tint
Givin
bums watch your back for jumps
Caught before a fake twenty dollar bill
Get 'em son, we ain't the one
Politickin', purse vickin', sick of these
bums watch your back for jumps
Caught before a fake twenty dollar bill
Get 'em son, we ain't the one
Politickin', purse vickin', sick of these
outta jail
I used to play baseball wid him
'Til he got large son bought a whale
As you're by the entrance
Guess it's real nigga night out
He moving
might let 'em suck my dick, but I don't be fuckin' 'em""
You and your crew got guns? (What?) Still a bunch of bums
Tell Mumford and Sons me and my pops
yo, this is for dolo son
Yo, man, c'mon pass the blunt man (yo champ, champ, champ)
Yo, pass the blunt man (hold it man)
Wassup man? (yo, hold it
And if he talkin' shit then fuck it smoke him
To his mamma when you see your son on the news
This is business bitch don't get it confused
He owed me two
down twerk it kill the son of man
Me I go die here
See Oroma rolling violence
Oroma dance, Oroma roll
Oroma whine bum bum bamba
Ah! mogbe
I no mind if e
Leave that nigga alone
He a bum he a dub
Can't be calling my phone
Number saying unknown
He ain't never had a bad bitch before
Now he messin wit hoes
when I met you, Jones, you know it ain't no use to run
Jones, he told me that he was my personal pal
Until that [son of a bum?] came and stole away my
mean it is, but I also got a bum knee!"
"Mr. Mathers, the fun and games are over
And just for that stunt, you're gonna get some extra homework"
"But
Dishpan Larry's in his own world
Down by the ferry terminal
When his mother was just only young
She knew she'd have a baby son
A modern day rose-boy
to reap your fruit
Whine down twerk it kill the son of man
Me I go die here
See Oroma rolling violence
Oroma dance, Oroma roll
Oroma whine bum bum bamba
ch!
Looked down the street
There stood a creep
If he gets close
I'm giving the smoke
He ain't Freddy, He ain't Jason
Hiya bum bitch, Gotcha in
it by my lonely now I'm the big homie
But I'm his royal slickness, ghetto weakness, come Rick is
The one who expose cornball rappers with
yours is mine, what's mine is mine",
Sealed with a hug and kiss.
One by one my children closed their lives to me.
Lesson learned on Daddy's knee,
the cars go by, roarin' as the breezes blow
Crazy lady, livin' in a bag
Eatin' outta garbage pails, used to be a fag hag
Said she'll dance the tango, skip
Crowder
For everyone who is a doubter
Remember Thomas saw His hands
Let's start finding the lost sheep
And not stress 'bout making bands
BUM
I am just
day, you may even show your son how
To use it to make potassium nitrate for gunpowder
Funded by friends of ours who's generous
Join us next time when
a timeshare somewhere
Rock bum wear, beach chair, write a book each year
You can write yourself out of your blessings
Wreck your Lambo the first day just by
and dumb-dums
slum bums and sons
askin' niggas where they come from
get him for his one, um
sunshine, its crunch time
stranded on the front line
kung-fu
Told her to come through
Roll up a blunt too
Call me when she get disgruntled
Her man be tripping she say he a bum too
Say he don't hit it like son
can't live a life where I've always got Comfort
All these lil boys are my sons, no Mumford, i'll hit a lil move quick on em like Shumpert
Pump fake
come
Prolly eatin' Steak-umms, rappers is straight bums
They tryna get close to dudes I wanna move away from (huh?)
Watch how easily I replace 'em
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