Lyrics:
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
(Call us jiggaboos)
And did deals with the Indians
(Wild Coyotes)
Ain't no fuckin body ever did no deals with no black folks
[Chorus]
the curtains
My life will be a B-movie shot by Tim Burton
And if I lack authenticity
Remember authenticity is often shitty
So please, no pity,
You can
an Enzo (hey)
Lambo Aventador S Vert ('Ghini)
SUV, Rolls-Royce with the curtains (Rolls)
Surprise, 30K the Birkin, it's a purse (look)
Niggas cannot
'you know a wise man once said, never judge a book by its cover, always read the whole thing in the bloody book shop and then decide if you wish
my beats and Campana Brothers seats
The heaven part for me is
Knowing I can wake up when I'm finished with my sleep
Ain't no kids to feed, no
and hos
No one knows where the lead poison goes
Cause I'm in the ho checks
Yeah, come off the Rolex
If not, I'm a give Bonnie some
Film at 11 by Connie
Now the sky's blackening
I know the mark's high, butter–
Flies rip apart my stomach
Knowin' that no matter what bars I come with
You're gonna harp,
this a risky buissiness
A No Limit Souldier
Commanderin' Cheif
An' Michael Jackson
Can't rock a muthafuckin' party like me
I'm bumpin' for the real
human, good or bad
But I also don't respect you and I don't care if that's good or bad
You see you are no M-L-K you are no Jesse Jackson,
You are
human, good or bad
But I also don't respect you and I don't care if that's good or bad
You see you are no M-L-K you are no Jesse Jackson,
You are
Jackson,
You are nobody, to me, your just another don king,
With a perm, haha just a little more political,
And that just means you're a little
a nigga momma house up, no talkin'
(Shh) Too much talkin'...
Ran out with a 100 bands, I ain't playin'
Cut the promoter, thought I was playin'
Got
bitches who clippin' your dick off
I'm a boss champagne with the steak
Pink rose jay sittin' ace by tha case
Brisco line to young nigga what it do
He
me?
(Put me in that motherfucka)
Yeah that type of shit
You know what time it is
Maybe it's the thug in me
By age thirteen I was buckwild
Good at my
your way and take a seat in just a minute it's curtains up
It's a circus
Filled to the brim with the worthless
Step right up and get to witness
"Jackson, you can't record yet"
Can't stop workin' hard
Same drive, different car
Don't think I'm a fraud
I just don't care at all
If you see me out
and how we wrap bricks with petroleum
Clean strips like custodians (uh-huh)
My rap sheet got coke on it, my stash house got broken in
West signed me, I
the shortest
Way to the shore is
Most died in vain, it's a shame no one noticed
The few that survived stood by and gave up
They watched and cried as their home
Shouldn't have had her curtains open, so that's her fate
Leavin out her house, grabbed the bitch by her mouth
Drug her back in, slammed her down on the couch
singing
I see Mrs. Parker done moved the whip where she used to park er
I gotta stop by Zion house he got my fire starter
I'm tuned out, Grandma still
the deck, watching my step til my foot on they neck
Put em in check, Born as a threat
I'm in a league with the rookie and vets (Rookie and vets)
House full
Improve my means by any means necessary
We getting by but we're just getting by barely
Shit scary
Unh yeah
Just let it breathe a little
K-N-G with an X in
Show him I made somethin' out myself and not just tried
Show him the house I bought the fam, let him tour inside
No matter how far ahead I get, I
Discuss these house with no curtains by alan jackson Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In