Lyrics:
Stone, wait by the telephone
Wonder if he's alone
Or is my man on a permanent loan to rock'n roll?
Rock'n roll
Outdoor concert, watching him play
Stone, wait by the telephone
Wonder if he's alone
Or is my man on a permanent loan to rock'n roll?
Rock'n roll
Outdoor concert, watching him play
The police they know I got sticks
They be worried about me
They know I'ma click
These niggas they know I'm a dawg
I ain't worried about him i know he a bitch
talkin', but nobody asked him
Naw - he want attention, he want his name yelled
Me and him always end up in the same cell
I'm pissed on the top bunk, I can't
run so fast in my life
Look at him haulin' ass, I think he left his wife
There she is, on the ground, being trampled
I go to grab her up by the damn
run so fast in my life
Look at him haulin' ass, I think he left his wife
There she is, on the ground, being trampled
I go to grab her up by the damn
who got their on crib,
This for girls who got their on shh,
If you came here by yourself tonight
Cause he wouldn't pick up the phone
He was supposed
me (what?), Beef it was finna be
My appetite for destruction is finnicky
He was an industry type, influenced by magazines and snipes
Rocked
heart racing
Way up
Way gone
You can’t save me
Bro called,
Told him don’t worry
We gon' make it
Pre roll got her on the moon
She think I laced it
my shits all f****d up and i gotta pick it up
Cars coming by and i gotta speed it up
This guy pulled over and asked if i was good
Told him i was bless
now he got the loft
It's solid as a rock and crazy soft
No jokes, I'm not playin', get his folks
Desert Eagle his dick and put him in a yoke (ah)
two for the show
You got my beat, now here I go
You see, this DJ, he gets down
Mixing records while they go round
With the hiddip, the hop, ya just
the corner of his 40-ounce bottle
On the weekend him and my pops flashed the 'Vette
Till one weekend my uncle got stabbed to death
He got murdered by
himself
Barely a crumb went to the neighborhoods he preached for
Donations stroked the egos he provided relief for
Not just him, the whole camp though
telling him where to go
The funky fever's getting louder, sounds just like a soul encounter
Cruisin' for some bar-be-que right up Central Avenue
And he's
throw b’s and they see what’s brackin
I need that money yeah, dog I’m trynna add it up
I pulled up inside in that Benz and they mad as f**k
I’m
Keith cooley is a killer, your dj's a mutt
I wouldn't try to take him on he'll cut you up like a biologist
He'll be the tutor, and I'm the talk-ologist
Respect the grind or find a goon talking
7. That slide up on him like he moonwalking
8. Big steppers with the blues on em
9. got a n***a looking like he
got the money, got the money
[Rap 3: Wisdom]
Yeah
Story about this guy I know him well
And he is so f**lish
And he spent his money on girls who don't
DJ Khaled
DJ Terror Squad
And he goes by the name of
You got the right one, it's Weezy fuckin' baby
And if your woman lookin', I'll let
even moving, just let him leave
The policeman knees crushing his neck
All this shit's happening just because he's black
But the fact is that
We won't
don’t mean i’ll ever stop
Off rip i ain’t never give a f**k bout a cop
He slipped cause I cleaned up the block with a mop
The tip where yo b***h was
a this track
B***h ima stepper and
I really step rolling lil shh
He be Smoking the
Best give a f**k bout
No haters they ain't signing
My checks everytime
-Why not?
-If that ni**a don’t jump high
I’m tell'n him bye bye
-That h*e better smile when I walk by
-if I see that she’s touched
-Ima gas her (Uh)
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