Lyrics:
don't dally, move indiscriminately
Was broke now we go city to city
For this music I turned to a demon
Rapping these lyrics I'm making em hear it,
or your Lex
The engine to my comprehension is just too complex
Much too complex, effects be live like Das
Making moves down South to avoid the chaos
You'll never break my confidence for better or worse
My selfish ways
My selfish ways
Take a look in his eyes
You can tell by his face
A rebel laced with
shine the spotlight then gimme the mic so I can get the crowd hype and make em
(bounce bounce bounce bounce) its B to the R O C (hi) from the D A C A V
you locked in the box keep making it through
Do your time (do your time) don't let your time do you
To my brother Mikey Mike, stay up homie
To my
protective curtains and a mother's dress?
The news are on, it's five o'clock, you really fucking starred
"Man chased down, beaten, shat his pants" - look
me a rubber band
He said Nigga that's a twenty five
Trapping outside of the Cullinan
Moon roof you can see the sky
We got bitches here by the five
goo)
My fake friends are animals, Judging by they size and they width
Sike wait until November 5th
My fake friends are animals, Judging by they size
entertainment at the palm of my hands
This shit is overruling over action by popular demand
I remember the only when the only way to click music
Was the music
along on tour
Just to have a good time
Or paying Calamity Jane five-thousand
Dollars to be heckled
By twenty thousand macho boys in Argentina
Or asking my
Moments like this
I numb the pain
By making music
What about that cash
What about that fam
How they feel about that
They gon slide bout that
(Fosho)
After
hair clean, it's not a fair game
Can't trust how they move, and his solitaire chain
His bust down Cuban with the new 'Rari truck
Cuts down the music
the
Fact that I can't get by with my nine-to-
Five and I can't provide the right type of
Life for my family 'cause man, these goddamn food stamps don't buy
the
Fact that I can't get by with my nine-to-
Five and I can't provide the right type of
Life for my family 'cause man, these goddamn food stamps don't buy
wanna be killa but not for reala
Bout the method of making money you gotta get the milla
By doin' it like I do it do the work and believe in it
When
will be there if you face the music right now
Right now (Yeah, c’mon face the music)
V1
So you were wrong, mistaken
You feel left, lost, forsaken
the history of music
By night, just to pay for that shit, you'd dance
To get your pants was a mission impossible
We were both the same age but I
Suppose
a big gate figure,
mobbing with the ill nigga, with his finger on a bigger trigger.
Serving all (saps), hitting sevens on the (simps),
making do',
and his name was Sam
Now I get cut by Kevin Can't believe that De'Onta in heaven
Been knowing him since we was seven Rather be getting dressed up for your
dawg lucky lost his brain
For 2 pounds of Mary Jane
By some one he use to hang wit and get blazed wit
And that was my awakening
It shook up my foundation
on they necks 'til they can't breathe
Claim they five stars but sell you dreams
They say death multiplies by threes
Line them all up and let's just see
Fuck
Boone sedation
Making sure nothing's left to the imagination
M.T.V. Get off the
M.T.V. Get off the
M.T.V. Get off the air
Get off the air
See the latest
fine nigga
Music will speak for itself
I listen to legends making it clear very well yeah
Rapsody said I shouldn't worry about anything they told me
I'm
Nothing's gonna be the same now
Mind is stuck in lonesome rain clouds
Making music with my greyhounds
Always gotta box of albums, so it's fuck
Discuss these making music by hi 5 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