Lyrics:
you
Then you pass by giving him the other side of you
Like the mystics do
So that every time he moves, he moves for you
Soul and light can always
to like to keep me company
They never could stand still
Always up on that hill
Said they oughta check out the territory
'Cause, see, the word was out
There
a whole team
take it out, king of trash,
all this ass,
all around
the drip that you lack
what’s it like to be the
jake paul,
logan paul,
1 mil, underage
a whole team
take it out, king of trash,
all this ass,
all around
the drip that you lack
what’s it like to be the
jake paul,
logan paul,
1 mil, underage
Check it out y'all
Ch-ch-check it out y'all
Two, two Live Crew
Two Li, two Li, two Li, two Live Crew
Fresh, fresh, fresh Kid Ice
Tre-treach Dee
made
And he walked for a mile in the ticker tape
The mayor smiled while Alvin prayed
"Sir, I'd like to ride that subway train"
Shimmers on film like
ground and we put this down
It'll be my niggas we out on the grind
Together forever still one of a kind
Got love for the thugs that grind
[All the way]
like Luke Cage
Bitches tell me I'm the new wave
On Westmont Nickels I'm eatin' New Wave
My joy roll niggas ride with two K's
Get rid of a few bodies, dug
me an Oscar that's honorary
Don't give a fuck bout your commentary
Bitch I'm swagging and saucin' like mom's spaghetti
The kitty came to me like Tom
dead lookin' like him Goddamn, I been jumpin' out the gym
Hand on the rim, yeah, I can really jump that high
Jager bomb give me wings yeah, I'm too damn
never ever left in the first
Wale Ovechkin, the best on the earth, breath breath full of purp
A legend out here, and I'm ending careers by the end
arm in the pot and whipped it
Came out with some Bobby and Whitney
(Hit) (Hit)
Then i walk that boy down wit that 50
Hittin shit like Luke Cage!
22 Chains like I'm Slick Rick
Chilling with thick bitch
And we finna get low
Yeah I'm tryna dig shit
Uncle Luke n Mac Dre yeah I'm on that pimp, shit
was with a z like, luke and han solo
Fuckin with niggas girls, forbidden, that's a no no
It's death and we're real niggas civilized guards
And there
the hands
You need a partner, we can spar
All the youngin's that I know
Boy they don't use hand guards
They use the trigger like quick drama draw
Yea, me
worship themselves by the way that they live
All these rappers say they got guns that spray off 16
I've got a Luke 9 that can take all 16
That's
like Sparrow
But I wear out my KJV like apparel
Father forgive them
For they know not what they do
A textual variant was it written by Luke
Father
think that it was taken by
the king of Mars perfects his commentary skills
I'm a gold plated man monkey full of dollar bills
you've been standing
A national day of mourning
Turkeys out the oven
Gravy with the stuffing
Celebrating murder
Like it wasn't nothing
A national day of mourning
The lies that we
playing bankroll
I'm playing luke bryan
Put the money on loud
And the pussy on silent
Grinded out the ground
Keep the hammer on vibrate
Fucking A, she
comin' too"
In the 305, treat me like I'm Uncle Luke
(Don't stop, pop that-pop that)
Had to slop the top off, it's just a roof, uh
She said, "Where we
538 is 92% sure that Barrack is gonna win
While I'm enrolled in 15 credit hours a week
A double major in faking it and Wordpress social commentary
By 9
Or we gon' chill indoors?
Yo, a summertime plan
Tell the shorty grab the pots and pans
Make something hot not ham
The Gods we don't get down like that
Canada is only there till they do
Something we don't like
I'd like to see them start a fight some day
We'd probably beat them to
The ground by 6AM, eh
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