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I got trap money, I got trap-I got trap I got trap money, I got trap-I got trap I got twenty for a show, but it's really rap money twenty for
them nailed to crosses Crucifixions in our true religion It's all by design F*** a superstition Let the black cat out the bag If you come across it
Yellow PT Cruiser, yellow 'Lac on rims Drop yellow 'Vette and a platinum Rolls Royce That's seven different cars, everyday I got a choice On my way
it up Josh digging through the crates I'm digging graves for these pups One by one I'll kill them all in due time You still trying to make your like I
days Loose cannon I could've died 100 ways Hard headed but crime pays Has to split the pie bout nine ways 2111 Boulevard bullies Frontline when it war we
as the seasons changed from the rooftops of buildings As change made its way and in time drew a brand new skyline And the city came to life! This is the place that
Yeah It's LightPo Uh Did it by my lonely, like I'm Speaker Knockerz I be off seven dranks', walk like teter totter Go get me some money, then Imma'
I hate the way The way the thoughts come on down on top of every other day Waking up early cuz I can't stand to stay in this bed Can't seem
the window When I speed by Baby girl, this shit in my genes Not no Levi's Bagged a shawty from the three She stay on the Eastside Said someday we gotta take
days To wake our Congress up, and check these evil ways There should be twenty guys doin' twenty for treason Then 20,000 more by the end of this season
Catch me outside, like a motherfucking airport bag drop Twenty in a matchbox, we gon' start a fire now Still just warming up while my competition is
and we kick in the door By the way this shit goin', we winnin' in four Look at the score bitch Look at the score No explanation, just look at the score
Lost my innocence, lost my soul Lost my diligence, lost my self-control Never asked to do, always told Somewhere 'long the way, lost a hand to hold
J:] I don't get this Fuck sickness and livin with this Never get to forget this Not even on Christmas No way to dismiss this What the fuck is this They
THE ROARING TWENTIES Words & Music by Dominic T. Kelly This is your time These are the moments In the sun, my love These are the days Your starry
take the piss See I remember when, back in twenty ten I remember when, back in twenty ten Yeah I remember when, back in twenty ten I remember when way
promise I'll be at the top it's time that I open the gates It's time that I stood by name and fuck up the game in twenty four different ways It's time that
the man of the hour (I'm the man of the hour) I'm the man of the hour, get paid by it too You rolling with the winners ain't no way we can lose I'm
never need to explain it, boy, they gon know why I got the team all behind me, I keep ‘em close by I'ma go off, let ‘em know there's no loss Run it up
Look Ain't taking no L's Mayweather steez Making reads Life goin' way too swell I been giving 'em hell Drip on my haters all day My cribbo look like
Came along way from the rusted out hyundai Two bedroom apartment, ducking all the gunplay Daddy was cabbie See the jackers in the ally
Sippin' til they mental slow, Those who nearly pissed wok, Sellin' kids oregano tucked in a fuckin' matchbox, You ever seen the dead walk? Catchin'
I've been going down this road feeling bad But I won't be treated this way The climate never fit my clothes Empty matchbox held me tight I'm still
Eternally grateful for the eternal This pen strike like matchbox sticks Produce that fire that burns you Thick glasses like Urkel Can't fuck with my
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