Search results for 'interview by soulja boy tell em' Page #693

what's fashionable, your tracks ain't flammable, ahh
I got a few questions, lemme ask 'em, yo
Tell me, is sticking to my roots so radical?
When I say

Jamaican
She phones my line whenever
She spots a paigon
Ooh, She's my ride or die
Her body make em say oh my, oh my
Wrist looking all Michael Kors
Her body

bitch, shut the fuck up (stupid ho)
(What the fuck?)

Fuck whoever don't like this song, I crank this bitch up by my own (ayy-ayy)
Crunkstars in

the opacity I disappear
Sorry to hear that you think we're inferior
I hate to tell you, Team two is superior
I like my woman how I like my wine
Old as hell

I think I’m meant for bigger
Go ask my bitches
Even they could tell you
Yeah that boy different from any other nigga
To keep it truthful
I be

who flew the coop
Call the crew
Tell em where to rendezvous
Then on to the coup'd'etat
See this here is a coup de grace!
This that over with that old

than the bad kid at his daycare
Big arms pull em out
Came through and caused hell, boy
Got my check, I was gone, new Rollie, call me Uncle Elroy
Me n

ride out

Oh lord, four boys, in a four by four textin' four whores like.. (Woooh)

Back to this ride shit

Liph on his passenger side shit

You know

morning thank the lord and chase
that bag/ They said money can't by happiness but tell me who said that/ I'm just
living life so why these niggas mad/ Cause

came after like he's outta his mind
Givin' threats like he wasn't the one crossin' the line
And as the moment passed by the little homies had arrived

A little boy I am inside still, wishing he were back
Wishing I could tell him how I valued his impact
It won't be in vein, but Lord all this pain

You're the Top

Harry Groener

Cole Porter: A Musical Toast

1997

At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em rest unexpressed.
I hate

the time dawg
I done hit em' with the rhymes dawg
Keep my mind up on the grind dawg
They been wantin' me to dumb it down
They can't read between the lines

it's my turn & that's fine
Fye on my waist
Blades in my face
Metallic taste
I just smoke blunts by the bay
Tell that bitch I need some space
Can't waste

dro in bags and
For you, it's easy more so said than done
Chased by police, we run, get
Tired, pause in streets with peace
Wired, come down hard from

'em
Four man, four hammers in this old shotgun
This a life you don't wanna stick no cold toes in
I'm always live, so the boys can't bring no GoPro's

he
Finna be shine like crystals legendary in the scene
Enemies still tryna drain my energy
I Tell em take a good look at the history
Like they wiki'n

{*a parody of the Fat Boys' song "Fat Boys"*}

Frat boys
Frat boys

Now we may be inebriated, and somewhat dumb
But I'll tell you one thing, we can

pocket, on lock in my pad
We need some space, can't fuck with what you emulate, no
My favorites advanced, no game boy
Need the advance, or we can't go

you but will I manage
Your just my type
Can tell that your stackin
No slackin
No lackin
Handle heat in the streets & can tell by your walk that your

that you cap about
One of my shorty she tell me yo where a bout
She scared to tell me cause she know I’ll air it out
Couple of innocent bodies they

In a hellish dream when I let em bleed
Told my father that I need a break
It's getting harder just to keep the faith
Out of all this I just need

I've got so much on my mind
Thoughts swimmin' late at night
Searchin' answers on my phone
Tell me how I'm supposed to know

2AM checkin' my phone
20

I've got so much on my mind
Thoughts swimmin' late at night
Searchin' answers on my phone
Tell me how I'm supposed to know

2AM checkin' my phone
20