Lyrics:
village
Laugh for a minute, couldn't cry for the life of me
Park by the bridge, sit on the hood, look at the cars
Stare at my hands, look at the moon, I
by the nuts and tried to take my sausage as a hostage
Ain't it obvious? Pretty much a no brainer, or should I say Cobainer?
That she's plain addicted
It was just starting to drizzle as I walked out the door
But I've delivered papers in the rain like that before
Three-thirty in the morning, I was
Seven in the morning, standing in the line
Three fools in front of me, drinking on some wine
Two in the back of me sucking on a joint
And one in
dripping,
You gotta see me baby
I love so, my old school, dripping from my old school
I can touch the sky in my old school, yeah
My old school's car
I patrol on D-Lo, popo know my steelo
Who seen killa cop? *****'s rolling see-Lo
Pump the peddle bike, nice chain, light chain
Fiends sniffin' white
screaming on these records that I'm rich
Calling people from my number now I block it
Cause there's nothing worse then getting haunted by a stalkin' ass
Po-po's guessin if the stolen car gonna do a drive-by
Wet em up from his shoulders, leave him bye-bye
Now mama cry-cry, but it ain't my time to either
knocks (mhm)
Ride on top of the car, they crush they rocks (like that)
Niggas hop my fence to run from cops
Shit, I'm a nigga too, so I know how niggas
Yeah
Born in the freeway (accident)
Got hit by a car (Accident)
Yeah Yeah (Yeah)
Opps rolled up in the middle of a distance
3 feet in a little too lifted
knocks (mhm)
Ride on top of the car, they crush they rocks (like that)
Niggas hop my fence to run from cops
Shit, I'm a nigga too, so I know how niggas
Po-po's guessin if the stolen car gonna do a drive-by
Wet em up from his shoulders, leave him bye-bye
Now mama cry-cry, but it ain't my time to either
One way ticket, window seat
Heartache at 30,000 feet
The future fades into memories.
I'll get by somehow.
Three point landing at L.A.X.
Pockets
When I stare into the void
I feel so small
It gets boring by the sea
So race me
I am a car and you hate walking
You're always saying my feet hurt
You
beretta
Ten bikes roll out
Twelve Glocks chromed out
Twenty-three pon mi feet
Mek di ground oh's out
Add a zero to the maths
Mek you recap
Ting deep ina
hustler enti daa m3didi
Mek) manim nana menhw3 makyi
Daabi metan obi daabi metan obi
I still dey grind merhn I dey on ma feet
Nyame ka mi ho daa enti for
with the heat man
And we steppin' on a nigga feet man
80 pair of sneakers came from the D game
Cousin was a Crip, said it was a C thing
Brown bag
that good weed up
Tell em' meet with us
It's not a thing we can't afford
So get in my car
Tell your friends you tryna' roll
Splash
Pretty bitches
And then they silent (Shh) [Get out of the car]
It don't matter if you smaller or bigger [You're under arrest]
When a sucka in a uniform run up
push shove by
Bike riding tyres embolden
Hang gliding skies all golden
Ski sliding riding rolling
Mount guiding hides unfolding
Applauding morning
them niggas runnin' up
Now lay it down for me
Foreign cars for all solid broads that I know
I drive through and slide all these bum bitches McDonald's
to get our minds off this whole thing
Ken pissed on a car aiming with his ding
Feel as if my sides will bust because I laughed so hard
Frank plowed a bike
I sought comfort when I came here.
You got stubborn so I stayed around to watch the tension clear.
We used to watch the cars pass by.
We'd stay
It's not usual, the game be, all up on some South shit
Straight west coasting, you can tell by my outfit
Red 'nati fitted, "Blood in, Blood out"
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