Lyrics:
at the Grammy's show
By refusing to play and refusing to go
And then just when we thought fame would last forever
Along come this band that wasn't even together
the news
All my bitches winnin', how it feel to lose?
Nigga tryna get the box like he finna move
Bitch, I'm at my pinnacle I used to shop at Pinnacle,
Tall King Saul says he wants it all
If he's willing to crawl he can have a ball
I can't do a wheelie
I can't touch the ceiling
I can't have good
Thai
I need some zig-zags, zig-zags
I need some zig-zags, zig-zags
I need some zig-zags, zig-zags
How I love to get high
Oh what the heck
by the straps, ya got ta kick her, fuck it!
That's how it go when ya dealin with a pro-per
Got my hand on the mic and I'm about to let it flow
by the straps, ya got ta kick her, fuck it!
That's how it go when ya dealin' with a pro-per
Got my hand on the mic and I'm about to let it flow
how I love to get high
Eee ah ooh ah ah (many times)
What the?
Oh what the heck
Niggas just want to get wrecked to the track
It's brand new
more of that shit, keep goin' (Ayo, BandPlay) ha
Saw my boy lil' bruh, he said, "Dolph, you know how it go" (ayy)
We can't win 'em all, but we still
and the brainiac don't know how to act
Shit's deep, forty-eight track studio
Gangsta mack sign the deal
Think he's gonna make a mil but never will
'Til he
beat me fair and square, so they recruited snitches (you snitches)
Put ya homie in the ICU, he needed stitches
Ya actin' gangster, but deep down, you
ain't no weed I ain't going
If my bro wan' hit then I throw it
How I lived through this shit I'm still glowing
Bands on me said I love her
You be lying
dollars? Damn
How you hatin' on your mans
Like that's not your mans?
I been chasing after bands
I been taking chances
Playin' with my bands nigga
You could
wings and some french fries
Hot sauce and ketchup nigga
He telling and he hiding
But real niggas'll still catch a nigga
Cop-cop 'Raris, I don't test
No emotion for these yats
Keep on grafting for my p
I feel spirits on my shoulder
Stacking dough piece, by piece
My white bitch
Love doing cocaine
guess and how are you
Yesterday in a restaurant
A fork stuck in my plans
David Burns has asked me for my hand
But I couldn't say yes
I haven't said yes
tomorrow
How could I be afraid, I'm loved by the God of Miracles
Can you see what He is doing
God's hand is on the move
This healing in his presence
That's
oh
You got a nigga
But I know he need to step up in it
I got a girl
But you know I need a better shawty
Oh, oh now, now baby, oh yeah yeah
Yeah yeah,
of us dreaming
Look at your fans
How we love you, rubber ball man
Look at your fans
How we love you, rubber ball man
Look at your fans
How we love
The bible's a collection of 24 books
With insight into man and how G-d looks
At world thru his lens, he's the who gave birth (to)
Basic Instructions
fuck it I love it here I call it my birthplace
Whenever I walk in they makin' the worst face
Surrounded by Fillipinos I think of the worst case
Watch
that bread no stealing
It's paid, it's free, it's given
His love got no condition
New life a new edition
All He need is that submission
Like uh would you
Don't you know, he was the king of saxophones
Yes indeed he was;
Talkin' 'bout the guy that made it sound so good
Some people knew him by the Bean
Aye
Stack's on bitch
Mac in the whip
Fucking your bitch
That boy shit
He cap on shit
Hit a fast lick
Catch a band in the motion
She's throwing it back
How can something so right, go so wrong
I used to love her, fuck it, I still do
Cause love never die, but it can kill you
I pray to Heaven's sky,
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