Lyrics:
get yours baby
I'm seeing millions, niggaz don't understand
Know what? I'm makin' moves, puttin' cash behind plans to blow up
Will he style like this
hang out wit' them criminals and drug dealers (ayy)
I'm from even where dead die (die)
For tryna do it big like the kid from Bedstuy
I see death
the streets, it ain't the same
Too many murders, too many funerals and too many tears
Just seen another brother buried plus I knew him for years
Passed by his
the streets, it ain't the same
Too many murders, too many funerals and too many tears
Just seen another brother buried plus I knew him for years
Pa**ed by his
shoes.
Hot legs, are you still in school?
Hot legs, you're makin' me a fool.
I love you, honey.
Hot legs, you're makin' your mark.
Hot legs, keep
Yeah, I got a new wave
Four dogs goin' down to the grave
Nobody ever said I gotta be brave
Now I'm laying down I'm under the shade
Now I'm out of my
Makin' songs for them hogs, and them Bloods and Crips
When it show up by the mall with a Muslim scent
After all, who do you call to rock your shit?
niggas but readin' be makin me sleepy (hey!)
So strong am I, A Hundred Styles and Runnin'
Niggas stuck on one and them I ran by
Claimin' they fly but
thirteen, smokin' blunts, makin' cream
On the drug scene, fuck a football team
Riskin' ruptured spleens by the age of sixteen
Hearin' the coach scream at my
of Houston Texas, makin ya mark
On my block, we're cueing all the time, playin dominoes
Keep the swishers sweet down until my mama goes
back inside -- then
my crutch?
Holdin' me up, helpin' me out
Makin' sure that I stay in touch
Where do I sleep, who do I turn to?
When I be low on my cash
Who am
like some Shredded Mini Wheats
I'm makin my escape
Sneakin out the back
Fuck I'm being spotted by some fag name Apple Jacks
I put it on his ass so he
Pretty much I'm comin through in the clutch see
My thought is a bombshell, built to only propel
Or is it just my style of hustle makin a mark
Stalk you with the eyes of a hawk, lets talk
Appeared whilst you walked over the pavement chalk
The way you're makin' me gawk got me feelin'
Like guy
a motherfucking king,
With crown,
Leaving marks,
Make em’ frown.
Niggas say they makin’ moves,
Judging talent by the views,
If the views is what it takes.
Nigga I
out with a def design
There were no others there
But I didn't care
When the car rolled by, it made people stare
But are they more aware? (To the beat)
Mozart than most, my key lyrically
Is noted on a scale above the whole industry
It's Dax i got bars out in Georgia
Twenty-minute songs'll probably Illinois
brothers don't talk about it
They never make a move 'til they thought shit out kid
I knew a lot of men who did bids for mayhem
They made a lot of money,
shoes.
Hot legs, are you still in school?
Hot legs, you're makin' me a fool.
I love you, honey.
Hot legs, you're makin' your mark.
Hot legs, keep
shoes.
Hot legs, are you still in school?
Hot legs, you're makin' me a fool.
I love you, honey.
Hot legs, you're makin' your mark.
Hot legs, keep
this time
been wrong to chop somethin done by one of my union friends
Soon as they seen the Benz, hatin season was in
Hell cause they figured me for
(Future)
Gotta bad bitch and she gettin’ very cuter (Very cuter)
God forgave me for all my sins (My sins)
Out here makin’ music and goin’ in (Goin’ in)
Pussy
her leg
Pissed on the carpet, shitted by the door
Psycho Les is out
You don't wanna hear no more
It's like that y'all, it's like that y'all
The hooker
goes down
I'll be somewhere whistlin' to my own sound
In my hometown, by my own self
I'll get there, same shoes, no thumb out
I'm the one they didn't
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