Lyrics:
offended by this, but that's the market y'all missed
That's the target I'll hit
And that's the heart of my pitch
I wanna do this whole thing different
What
We're doing a sequel
We're back by popular demand
C'mon on everybody, strike up the band
We're doing a sequel
That's what we do in Hollywood
a lot better, and I'd be out by now
It ain't blues it ain't rock and roll. It ain't rap and it ain't soul
But it's the only thing I know that makes me
that lottery, I hit it
I'd like to kinda make up for
A lot of things that just seemed not to go right
Don't want you to think I'm tryin' to buy back
the program
Whether sinning or not, my back bending like I'm sentenced a lot
I feel some brothers is beginning to plot
It might have been a close friend I
What? What? What?
[Will Smith]
Here come the butter baby
Bringing it smooth and hot
Got the staff from K-B
Singing this groove a lot
So I got my spiral
As we go a little somethin like this, hit it
Now let's get this party, started off the right way
Ow and ho I think the crowd might say
When we're
So many things that mean a lot, So many things that I never got, You can look boy,
But you can't touch, What I don't have seems to mean so much
that lottery, I hit it
I'd like to kinda make up for
A lot of things that just seemed not to go right
Don't want you to think I'm tryin' to buy back
'cause I'm not that mean
Drink a lot of juice so my inside is clean
Do unto others like they do to us
Stay out of the grip of "in God we trust"
Work by
Yo, I know everyone out there wanna know, "what the hell does this mean?"
Well, I don't know my damn self
Now what the hell does thoia thoing
guess I'm 5'10" there is a
Fan Club here in England
But if things go well in the
States then we'll have one there
I suppose it's a little early
To even
at cha
Got nothin' but love for ya, do your thing, boy
Yeah, all the homies that I ain't talk to in a while
I'ma send this one out for y'all, kna'
for the 'Gram bless my timeline
I'm not talking bout the grill, but this a job well done
You were always on my mind just like Willie Nelson
Permanently
Yeah, yeah
I never had a role model
I was loading gold hollows in my little Glock-40
A little shorty, heart colder than December in the morning
running from cops
And everyday that's just the price you pay
When you're living by the words and the things you say
And if your mother only knew
That all
by the day
He stuck it out for nine months I don't know why
And then a little girl on the Fourth of July
Was born in the front seat of his car
It was
And the pale horse looks a little sick
Says, "Jesus, you didn't leave a whole lot for me
If this isn't hell already then tell me what the hell is?"
And we
They only talk to her, because
She looks like a total prostitute, okay?
I mean, her butt, it's just so big
Uh, I can't believe it's just so round,
the same, give me the brain, Caribbean thing
She willin' and ready and ready for my Willie, just like she Vivian Banks, shit is insane
That just went over
with a writer's block
The line that's hot, that I forgot
We laughed a little, cried a lot
I'll never forget when you came home and you held Hailie
why you got to keep
The game on the shelf and by all means
Look out for your legitimate work
So let me put you up on the scoop
Because suckers like
their hands in the air
Up and down like hell, yeah
So fresh, so clean, so shiny, on a beam
Girl, you're so mean, why you're doin' a damn thing
Any
take in the ghetto you find a whole lot of crime
I can understand
Hey
I know what it means
Being nine years old before I got my first pair
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