Lyrics:
First of all, we the one and only Infamous
Everybody want to use the name soundin' all lame
We come up in the party with them shanks and things
(Playing with fire, Oh!)
Jimmy, Jhonny and Jolie
3 modafackas in the party
Breaking rules and another Bobie
Push and hans up with the sucker Robbie,
She said let's put a plastic bag over our heads
And then kiss and stuff 'till we get dizzy and fall on the bed.
We were in heaven for five or six
in the game of life
Party late nights
Worked when I felt like it
Driving buzzed around the town
Such a dirty habit
And I don’t know why the days
colors on the house's floor
Tears painted on the door
Sneaking in the night
A door open
A road with a flaming trail
America's hypocrites!
Parties for
[ VERSE 1: Mike G ]
Remedies for house parties stayed simple and plain
Little wine, little music, little Mary Jane
Gotta keep the lights dim, so when
from the Backstreet
Four bad bitches in my backseat
There must be something in the water
The energy is like no other
We in NYC
Sun down no sleep
We party
sessions called art
I am artist
Dressed in paint raised in music shaped by film felt by vocals
With stories told by scars and ink
My thoughts
Have no direct
ya play the fool that's half steppin'
Intelligent black folks are our strongest weapon, get ya lessons
Vocal sessions on the regular, eye contact
Black light fades
Headlights switched off
The engine burns
As we're rollin' to a stop
Let's get out here
Lie down in the middle of road
Ain't
hab good Cards
Hol' die Bros in die Parts
Muss direkt weiter in die Charts
Für die Black Cards, keine Visa
Nur teure Features, glaub mir, das hier nur
Emy-Billy link up
The shit, it's like a Cheat code
Yeah, uh, it's a rapping classing session The class is in session
Let me teach you a thing or two about
werden Sessions in Paris geplant
Finanziert durch Mucke, stell dir vor, ich hätt dis nie gewagt
Broke und lebte ständige in den Tag hinein
Jetzt flieg'
was king Albino
Critiqued my form of speak on breakbeats
Cut on 2 Technics in a basement on 210th street
House jams, parks, block parties, halls
Sheepshead Bay, move to strong LI
But my self inner-self breaks North
And like Moses I'm judged by the cloth
Of my heritage who will bring forth the people
In
smoking and smoking
High every day in a session we stoning
Baby girl thick she bad she know it
Get that cash that girl got motion
She met me she said she
noise from my Maseratti
All that noise turnin' up the party
All that noise young nigga with a whole bunch of rubbers
All that noise young nigga gon' catch
Maybach
Probably hold six in the back and three if ya fat
Probably hold more in the back if they sit on the lap
I gotta go and move to the party to see
we true and flew in life
Leave us JD and rock a party all night tight nigga
One two three four five six seven
I can rap like hell but make
fight it
One time like a dm
Imma slide in
Shawty think I'm playa playa (Playa playa)
Tell your friends you'll see em later
Yeah
Tell your friends they can
Brought to you by my moniker
Space Teflon ex man con love python
Epiphany possible
Epiphany in your colour form
Cigarette stick made the time
the room, no question
Doc Martens on the feet
Class is in session
His ego so big that he can barely carry it
Have me a laugh boy that shit is hilarious
He
by the rotten mouth, painted eyes like a black pitch
A shout rises from beyond from beyond "The death is near the death has arrived"
The singer
to be holding a brainstorming session
In conference room B
The subject will be, of course
How to kill Superman
To be honest, I'm out of ideas at this
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