Lyrics:
never even called me by my name
You don't have to call me Waylon Jennings
And you don't have to call me Charlie Pride
And you don't have to call me
You're now tuned into the mu'fuckin greatest
Turn the music up in the headphones
Tim, you can go and brush your shoulder off nigga I got you, yeah
amaracus
Flexing like suburban Spartacus
Getting smacked up by unemployed hand models
Running out into traffic with Beaujolais bottles
Arabian nights,
First, the DJ must power up the amplifiers.
To play a record, select an album and put it on the turntable.
The racer must attach five dollars
Thank you, thank you very much
For comin' out this evening
Thank you, thank you, thank you you're far too kind
Hold your applause, this is your
serious (I wanna be your man)
Yeah, mama, yeah, mama, I'm daddy, no, I'm not
You're a lot of fucking problems, you gon' prolly show true colors
By
the bean bag
Hit ya ass from the side like a screen pass
And that red bandana is the team flag
Yeah, all up in your fucking face
Tez pushed the album back,
get me wrong, got four albums, stay consistent
You got a bodyguard, I let my nigga tote the biscuit
Twist ya cap back, you got blood off on ya fur hat
of the question, stop the guessin
it's hot, flows provin I pack cause my dough's movin
My whole crew up in this muh'fucker
We spray corners, stand there like you got
on the
Album that's really different it's
Just harp and orchestra
Basically it's like when you're in
A dream and there's this
Magical place and you wake up
the world grooving, grooving
Uh uh uh, alright, uh huh
Now if you want to step
You gotta play it by the rules
You gotta do what I do
When I do, what I
chicks don't wanna fuck with me
Iceberg, Slim baby ride rims
I'm so gutter, ghetto girls fall in love with me
You know him well by the name of Jigga
shoes
So much stussy drip Shawn better dm me business moves
And Jerry if you don't get the Inspo you might gon' miss it too
So u better not miss the Wave
(Verse 1)
I was motivated by Scherff, now I'm killin every verse
Remember when they hated, now my album on they shirt
I got different flows, this
You're now tuned into the mu'fuckin greatest
Turn the music up in the headphones
Tim, you can go and brush your shoulder off nigga I got you, yeah
fingas up
We hollerin SQAD UP nigga! SQAAAD UP!
You got a problem - tell 'em meat me by mine
You know the heat be by my nuts nigga
Man we can knuckle up
Alright listen up buddy, listen closely and I cannot stress this enough
By listening to this album you are literally
And I mean LITERALLY listening
hang up and I start to blame myself
Somebody help
Let's play the blame game, I love you more
Let's play the blame game for sure
Let's call out
Raw, the one, like five divided by four (uh)
Shit, this just the hate that's been provided by y'all
Reciprocated and multiplied by more
You likely
of talking to myself
Wishing somebody (somebody) passing by (passing by)
Would pick me up and look inside
We don't have to be eye to eye (or face to face)
on that belt, fuckin make it stop
Mouth, hey, I'ma pull up with that shit
Fuckin' on the mullin' if you talkin' shit
I'ma stay in my lane, yo, bitch
And be
(Fuck all you hoes! Get a grip, motherfucker!)
Yeah, this album is dedicated
To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all
Then you wonder: "How can kids eat up these albums like Valiums?"
It's funny, 'cause at the rate, I'm going, when I'm thirty
I'll be the only person in
your hood
And when your album sales wasn't doing too good
Who's the Doctor they told you to go see?
Y'all better listen up closely
All you niggas
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