Search results for 'gear song by daisy' Page #36

the name, I get money
Know the game
I trip poppy, one call, he bring mo' trucks
Queens nigga, ballin' hard, my gear
Slow bucks balenciagas on my feet
Fly Ty

Oooh,
Not another love song
You don' did my love wrong
Oooh
Nooo
Not another love song
I'm gon' get my thug on
Oooh
You can't keep telling me (telling me)

Haunted by the man in the mirror
And he wouldn't let go of the pain I harbored these years
All of my fears fizzling inside a bottle
Now spillin'

food
No sleep
All night
On my computer
My eyes polluted by blue light
Confessedly
Working endlessly just might be the death of me
But my beats are

played, I'm just Saying

You was the first to call me daddy, way before I had a baby, that's crazy
How'd the song go? Let me drive Miss Daisy Tell me how

a talent
The proof is in the pudding
When I make songs single handed
Solely funded by myself
I have to brag man
The beats don't have tags man
I pay my duos

Pressings shirts and cutting vinyl 
Juice 
You been flying like a pilot 
Lost ya moms I felt that shit 
I tried to help by giving blood 
You hit my line like

The Hard Way

JT the Bigga Figga

Don't Stop Til We Major

1996

and park by the house is not too far
My gear was fat but still no money though
Talked to my homey then got fronted so
Stackin my shit, hustlin cash
Gotta get

switched it up just like some gears
Progressin i done faced my fears
I lost my bitch and most my peers
Believe me i done dropped some tears
This shit get

The Hard Way

JT the Bigga Figga

Don't Stop Til We Major [2006]

1996

the 
Shit back to the stolen car 
Drive and park by the house is not too far 
My gear was fat but still no money though 
Talked to my homey then got

Purge

Written, recorded, produced, engineered, & performed by Broc Jesch (Breezy)

1st Verse
Once a year it is anarchy pure insanity so I broke in

her to my peers
Let me call my twinenem he gonna help me
Cus I need to switch the mothafuckin gear
Hol on
"Yo"
"Yero"
"Tryna hop on a song?"
"Do I want

Another day at work, I'm just grinding on my gears
On some TGIF, the weekend's finally here
It means Follow Friday, the choice is kinda hard
Let's

gear up in my closets
Hit the bank and make the deposits
So much green it make you nauseous
You can quit with all the nonsense
I ain't an artist I'm

So I wrote this song for you
I see your feeling down
You've been keeping isolated
Prisoned in your home town
It's a wonder I can even sing
When

Mob ties on every corner
Act a fool, they look for ya
Bodies got bodies
I'll give 'em that
He get mentioned in my song
He a heavy hitter
I get quoted in

you wrong but I ain't him
You can tell by the way I hop on this song that I out rank him
But we goin get a load nigga by any means
I still kick it with

cuz is a blood then why would you shed it forget it and move on Don't jump to conclusions or I'll rip you a new one 
By writing a new song and hoofing

Whos gonna be the best
Whose gonna just flop
Overtaken by the rest
Hope it ain't me
That's the only thing I fear
Tryna be free
I am switching up my gear

walk around a bit
But Herschfelder was "Gettin' there"
Now they're getting chased and they
Get liked by O'Bannon wee, Wee
Wee squeal like a pig oh my
God

Tommyknockers trapped in an underground odyssey 
Navigate a maze of consecutive dark days 
And mark demon time by signs that emerge from the haze 
To direct you

Ain't got for these slurring versions of thirty different
Wrappers on a Trojan horse, serviced and served by corruption 
Or lackadaisical retorts; lurking

Ain't got for these slurring versions of thirty different
Wrappers on a Trojan horse, serviced and served by corruption 
Or lackadaisical retorts; lurking

there, buddy

Ok let's sing songs, sing songs
Climb up to the top, go ape King Kong
Can't go back and forth, don't do no ping pong (ping pong)
Know you