Lyrics:
wheres some of those combs
I don't mind buying you your lotion too
Don't be asking me questions about what kind i'm buyin you
hey mama my stuff is the good
again
YES WE ALIVE
I'll call Busta Rhyme to check Bonita
Q-Tip and tribe so please step aside
This is 93 bars and running I'm gunning
No talk white
shoutout to Bobby Beats for this shit, man
This shit sounds like some Q-Tip shit, man
And shoutout to Q-Tip as well, man
Hoping you're keeping it safe out
q tip
Talking online keep trying won't do shit
Send me a beat I'll fuckin abuse it
Me vs. you I'm the one that they choosing
Bug in my ear so I call
I like to hear the plaintive croon
Of a tenor saxophone
In a dive of a room
Where I sit all alone
Oo oo oo oo ooh
I read books by dead authors
Keep
Yessuh
Wavy
It's wonderful
Listen
Uh-huh
You know this bitch knockin' like a bitch right?
RIP Screw
Shoutout to Jermaine Dupri
If you know, you know
kept, never quack
On the Q-Tip I quote, I throw lines like a quarterback
A monster, murder motherfucks like Manson
A madman who mutilize men with 9-M-M
on the narrow road
Ayo, that's it from me, Plug 3, and Ali explode!
Verse 3: Q-Tip
When I rhyme, the effect just ripples
You sound sick, I hope your cells get
change
When a man get some money
I stay payin dues
On my P's and Q's
And regardless to what they say
I'm leavin suckas confused
Now let me recollect
Take
wicked, I didn't check the rhyme
'Cause Q-Tip couldn't kick it
And that punk Redman, I hit you with the back son
Talk is cheap, it's time time for some
the lights, lights, lights, lights, lights
Hell of a night, wonderful time, wonderful time
One of a kind, kind, kind, kind, kind, kind
That's alright, that's
Some leaders get by on good fortune
Others on good policy
Some just get by on charisma
But that's not been an option for me
Some lead their people
think my gun was a Crip
Drive by, walk by, bicycle, motorcycle
Killers pulling up in all kinds
14, 15, 12 years old
Young niggas slangin' iron
ever wanna let you go
It's a certain kind of feelin', you know that feelin' you get
When got it right, then you know what's what
You got me on some
by
Where I've done some beer crackin'
Crying, praying, laughin'
Just talking to the man in the sky
Baby, jump on in
There's a huckleberry limb
We
She’s ovulating – if she was a stripper
I wouldn’t know why but I’d probably wanna tip her
She’s ovulating – she’s dressed so provocative
My
like a monkey on a vine
Goin' up the scale and I will prevail
Sharper than the point on the tip of a nail
Movin' with the speed of a thief
violence is not our forte
I just like to rhyme, kick the lyric skills like Pele
Tip educate 'em, my rhymes are strictly taboo
Fill 'em with some fantasies
new kicks
Red cup, Blue strips
Pretty face, Wit Cute lips
Big butt, Slim Hips
Clean ya out, like a Q Tip
Blowing gas, think I pooted
Bentley truck, like
Give me the fuckin' Fentanyl
Just finished on my own stomach, time for some oxtail
I ain't gonna lie, I'm kind of feeling myself right now, gang
We
been broke for to long
Eating hard chips like croutons
Couldn't get by with two jobs...
(My goodness Sire!)
I needed a raise for some days now
Been
knowing no manners
And everything that it manages
Changing some kind of sanity
Going fed with humanity
Acting some kind of panicky
Think the world is its
though
Tip-toe, tip-toe, tip-toe, tip-toe
That's how I'm moving paparazzi take the pic though
One of a kind so you can call me hand-picked though
Work
fooling...this feeling is real"
She said...she said "you gotta be crazy,
What do you take me for? Some kind of easy mark?
" No, you've got wits, you've got looks,
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