Lyrics:
of you that still linger
I am a VCR a funeral of dead memory waste
I'm a VCR a funeral of dead memory waste
You can see it on my face i'm a VCR funeral
me
The fuck is you tellin' me?
Fuck is you tellin' me?
Way more than a celebrity
And fuck white supremacy
I'm out for
Dead presidents that
willows on satin pillows
Love is being checked, from a ho
Dead presidents still getting their fuck on
I'm so happy because ain't nothing like a lollipop
the whip my bitch drive
Need a new safe money getting too high, dead presidents all in my Levis
Boy I swear this nigga be swagging, and I'm living lavish
crew Come Strapped like MC Eiht with nickel plates
Gettin mad Dead Presidents ask Lorenzo Tate
Ahh, gettin loot rollin craps in the yard
Can't be
This a special dedication, (thank y'all)
I wanna thank you for the fuel
No really thank you
(Y'all better hear this shit)
I felt so inspired by
in the day was "Eric B. for President"
Rude boy composer, step to me you're over
Brothers wanna flex, you're not Mad Cobra
MC short and black, there
Dead presidents to represent me
Mad nigga just chilling, count it by the millions
Talking bout, all my niggas, all my guns, all my women
Can't wait, my
then one single strike
The president is dead!
The president is dead!
Watch his body falling down
Watch his blood staining the ground
Watch a state
Dear Mister President how do you sleep at night?
Your people they are hungry yet you ignore their plight
Their houses they've been stolen by
much, you love when love hurts
You love fast cars and dead presidents old
You love fast women
You love keepin' control
Of everything you love, you
This song right here is dedicated to the
President of the United States of America
Y'all might know him as George Bush
But where I'm from
Lost city
in the heck"
And they be checking and yo wait a second
As he be rocking it, always collecting
The money or dead presidents, whatever you call it
So
of your life is goin' up, it ain't inflation
Incrimination, they got my picture at the station
Elimination, state to state we eatin' by this nation
Them
Heigh ho!
Do you know,
The names of the U.S. residents
Who then became the Presidents
And got a view from the White House loo
Ooh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
The rest of my life
Ooh, oh, oh, oh, oh (oh)
The rest of my life
Life dead presidents, devilish men
Overthrow king
fingerprints
Chris Tucker, Laurence Tate, Dead Presidents
Dead white boys spread across the coffee table
Don't know maybe I'll start me up a record label
(Roll it then)
Dead Presidents, we foldin' them
I'm talkin' bout hustlin'
(hustlin') , shinin' (shinin')
Strugglin' (Strugglin') grindin' (yeah we
fifty cent, in a bad predicament
The gon' bust your head by them dead green presidents
Wipin' down the evidence, shooters at my residence
All this
it's relevant
But I'm a straight soldier
I'll roll up a nigga like it's Heaven sent
Trippin' over dead presidents
They got these derelicts
I throw
The president's dead, the radio said,
Dear friends, is it not so horrible?
A shot through my heart, like a knife right through bread,
The newspaper
I wrote the president
But I got no reply
He claims he tells the truth
He writes it in the sky
The taxman's at the door
Though he never seems
your legs with eggs chicken hatch
Can't find too they dead ex, but the skin don't match
Chorus: Dr. Octagon (repeat 3X)
And you say,
The Fuck Happened to the home of the brave
Niggas running off headed to the grave
Black president, don't matter
Shit just getting worst life is
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