Lyrics:
I knew you was jealous from the day that I met you
I upset you, 'cause I get respect, I bet you
I'm even liked better by your niece and nephew
It's the return, East Atlanta, Santa!
Off the wall, off the chain
Off the top, I'm off the leash
So many freaks coming by the spot
Had to move,
on my dog
We the truth by far
Young GOAT, way 'fore Earl Manigault in that park
Now it's prime only 'fore you hit that heart
I built a penthouse in
Rebel, renegade, must stay paid
Not by financial aid, but a raid of hits
Causing me to take long trips
I'm the original teacher of this type of style
renegade, must stay paid
Not by financial aid, but a raid of hits
Causing me to take long trips
I'm the original teacher of this type of style
Rockin'
paid
Not by financial aid, but a raid of hits
Causing me to take long trips
I'm the original teacher of this type of style
Rockin' off-beat with
What do I say
Say whatever the heck you want
Be on beat stay on beat
Oh my GOD
Yo here I go
Hey yo I don't know any words
My GOD
Play the Album
Many people had the nerve to think we would end the trend
With Criminal Minded, an album which is only ten
Funky, funky, funky, funky, funky hit
Man, take another hit breathe out
In a zone blowing smoke out a glass teapot
I?m chillin at home on some solo shit
I love piece and when its quiet, I
rapper about to blow
But his album came, and it was not good
I think it went lead or double copper-wood
So the silly little fans, they were misled
By
now my flow is just an Instinct
Called it Timberlake, because my flow is just so NSYNC
I'm driving while I write this shit
Oops I forgot to switch
[Too $hort]
Album number 12
Short Dogg still in the house
I ain't going back into retirement
Life is
Anything is possible try hard
It ain't
(okay)
To his album we ride we so mob (okay, yeah)
I throw lives and lowest to live
For my loaf of bread the people's player
I did what the culture
pop style for 30 hours, then let him repeat
Now, you poppin' up with the jokes, I'm dead, I'm asleep
I just left from over by y'all puttin' pen
screw and common knew
We had bitches by the dozens "huh" we fuckin' cousins
You can throw ya middle finger if ya feel me loc
A nigga just got paid
Rebel, renegade, must stay paid
Not by financial aid, but the break of hits
Causing me to take long trips
I'm the original, teacher of this type
else)
Fuck arguing and harvesting the feelings, yo, I'd rather be by my fucking self
(Self, self, self, self)
'Til about two AM And I call back and I
floss mode
The life of a boss player
Fuck what you thought though
My enemies deceased
Die like a bitch
When my album hit the streets
Niggas can't
the hairs
Her body like a coin flip heads or tails
Beep beep) girl don? t back it up on me,
She did it anyway and it felt like a truck on me
Stop teasing hit
So get your egg crashed, by my Hellz Wind Staff
While the feature broadcast is splashed to tell the news
Like Katie Chung, how the bullet collapsed
album hit the shelf
Grandma's favorite, she could not understand
How there's people in the world who wouldn't want me as a neighbor
Had to explain
lightin' the green
I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam
Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails
Niggas throw us on they album
screw and common knew
We had b****es by the dozens "huh" we f***in' cousins
You can throw ya middle finger if ya feel me loc
A n**** just got paid
Yeah, yeah
Hahaha
Ayy
Chillin' with the homies at the crib
Bumpin' Pac Div, this the life I live, you ain't know about it
Hit the studio with
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