Lyrics:
or more
But I always come back again
Because you
Light up the dark
Just by being who you are
I haven’t changed
I still feel the same
‘cos a love like
me
Now you know I like to Flip
I made a thousand bucks from Hundred
Look like a Magic Trick
It takes a hundred months
To do what I did with the magic
that
No problem, (why?) because I got it like that
A Baby Bam beat and an African rap
My partner by my side, Sammy be is on the cut
Your DJs
the coochie, young pimp in this bitch
Keep it 100, I'm sick of this bitch
Never ate breakfast but eat up the grits
Hold that bitch down but she can't get
and give my
Black ass a hundred years
I'm like Paulie in Goodfellas
You can call me the don
Like Malcolm by any means with
My gun in my palm slim switch
bet
Had that Chevy on state, ride through every nigga set
Hundred thousand on bond, air rap nigga, cut a check
I was fours in the mango, gettin' your
straight
And better if it happens face to face
They're looking for you, brother, they keep stopping by the house
They're waiting at my work when I get
that bitch with a thousand looks
Come through with a thousand crooks
I just know what it takes to get this money like Blow
Catch a body, get a face
Up in that house all by yourself
Pictures to keep you company
Never think of me
Got this blanket to keep me warm
But it don't hold me like you did
headphones on It be feelin' like a crown
Gettin' money, gotta love it
Fuckin' hoes, gotta love it
I got bullets by the hundred
Tryna' jump a pile of money
I
the fool who doesn't?
In the town
By the house
The journalist is waiting
And near this place
There is a space
A subject contemplating
You've got your keys
I need a crib
I think I need a coupe
By 25 I’m talking pent house
And a palm tree with the a view (View view)
Crazy how i used to think
I might not
you think you fuckin wit
I got shooters everywhere like the white houses government
I got saiyan primal instinct but i am not trustin it/
got why you wanted
I’m in your house like it’s haunted
I got a clip with a hundred
Letting it off like it’s nothing
I might just blow up
Love smokin quarter lbs with ya.
And that pussy water,
Feel like I'm about drown in it.
But we need a intervention yea yea
This weed is just
When she walks in your house
She comes in through the back door
She'll turn the music on
And turn your kitchen to a dance floor
Everyone's into her
Pasta at Guadalupe/ on top like a Toupee greet a nigga by full name/ I’m setting trends/ stepping harder than flu games/ been bout the paper since
Talk to me baby, like I'm your dude
'Cause right now, I'm in your hood
In your house, in your bed, in your sheets
Hey, DJ, spin that tune
If you don't
Hold me, I don't wanna be a runaway
Ain't tryna drive over a 100 on da freeway
I'm gon lose my mind,
If I am alone, when you're not here by my side
done, I am hardly, I mean
In the 925
Isolated nights, I'm fine
Rap is all I got
'Member selling by the dime
In and out the houses
And apartments, got
the clouds draped like a flag
'Cross the backs of the fleet
For the Hundred-First Lightborne Elite
As the day is long
So the well runs dry
And we came
Fire
In the waves washing over me
I feel the fire
Controlling me
Dance
DJ take control of me
Trance
Hypnotized moved by the beat
Chance
You and your
the modest dream, ain't lookin' for a pot of gold
A 6 pack and some good marijuana I can watch my mama roll
I believe I can buy a few things like a house
a few dime pieces
The L-Y-T-E, I cram to understand and
The R-A-H D and me E-D
Hey Mr. DJ, give a jigga-jigga back spin
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