Lyrics:
and let a couple of shots
Spin me around like I'm a featherweight, not knowing that I'm heavyweight
Smith & Wesson weapon will make you elevate and levitate
went to Smith, and I went to Hayes
That was the past, and the future will be better
Pass the Moët and keep the Cream Armaretto
Peace to Greg Nice
a slight grip as I like a smith and stop a stressin
A ruthless adolessence you might become a lesson
Put on My suit and clown naw playa that's what hoes do
backed by big time promoters.
CBS promote the Clash,
But it ain't for revolution, it's just for cash.
Punk became a fashion just like hippy used to be
We're feeling alright
And touching the stars
We're flying tonight
To heal all our scars
When everyone go
I'll be by my own
And i will let go
Born in June, everywhere on the
Scene like I'm Will Smith, gemini Man
Don't even need a blue tick anymore
When they look at thе face
Just a verified man
All, all
We have left
All, all
We have left
Will Smith, Puff Daddy, Gala, Chumbawamba
On the other side of the street he passes Café Java
Where
I created a lane
I don't respond to bitch niggas by name, that's trash (facts)
Scary-ass backpack rappin' niggas never was meant to outlast me
Me
a movie at the hood, picked her up cause I could
Should of known her fine ass was up to no good.
While I was blinded by the fad..
Lil Deja was stacked,
pressing
This isn’t music these are soul searching confessions
Go ahead and close your eyes feel the spiritual connection (I woke up)
Try to swallow a Smith
rules, I kidnap your daughter for ransom, I had a gun in St Pancras, Shorter got life it was random.
Men in black nigga no will smith, R.I.P J and he
mean?" I got like twenty-nine shells
Hopped out patty cake, that mean I hopped out clappin' shit
Hopped out Will Smith, that mean I hopped out smackin'
rein, geb viel Gas
Mach Drive-Bys in Spielstraßen
Geb mir selbst Highfive
Wenn ich durch's Ziel rase
Und jeder der mich kennt nennt mich gestört
Es stimmt
Chorus: Lord Tariq
Party all night fiesta forever
Getting cheddar whatever together whatever
Verse 1: Lord Tariq
We run fast, we NASCAR,
I don’t need a basic bitch who’s close to me, a need a woman just to test her,
estoy feliz por la fiesta, but we’re better,
I know you see the cross hanging on my chain
Ima rep my boss cuz Im unashamed
God tore my ACL to prove I walk by faith
and the glasses are so I can
Check behind the painting in your hotel room
Find the places that you'll see us in real soon
Our dreams drawn out shakey groove by groove
One day my
(M. Smith)
Chorus: There's a panther in Michigan. Don't that make your Halloween?
There's a panther in Michigan, although he is seldom seen
And he's
Smith and Wess
Pull your girl up out her dress, snatch the baby out the nest
Represent the Mid-west, after we drug test
Look like federal express,
material
Bang on doors like Enoch, crush kill destroy a block
Dr. Smith, Will Robinson, head-bobbinson, attack the opposite
Alternate, demonstrate, throw {?}
flows got a bag of those
And all them niggas bitches, man will dagger those boom
Nah they ain't ready for man, trust me, they ain't ready for man
Nah
and a pipe
Or a bike and a spinner, a weapon and some transport, for my little nigga
Posted Destiny up on her b-day, and got blocked by bare silly hoes
But
to
Chop chop
We need to
Chop chop
Forever
Painted faces, axes swinging
Clinical depression
Try to end it with Smith and Wesson
You might have
don't need a pill
You niggas ain't livin' like that, let's just keep it real
I got a four-five Smith, ain't talkin' Will
Banana clip on the chop got
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