Lyrics:
mills
My boy kitchen's done, lookin' like a flour mill
You niggas' faces lookin' like you drink sour milk
And your albums like some mothafuckin' fire
and shoes for the wife
And a bicycle on the boys birthday
It's just a rumour that was spread around town
By the woman and children, soon we'll be
to stop by and check us out sometime
He looked at me like I'm out my mind
Shook his head like, "White boys don't know how to rhyme"
I spit out a line
saying shit like that cause it's not enough
Your whole album put me to sleep lil boy no bluff (bluff)
You couldn't put pressure on me lil boys not rough
the calendar design
Wilderness tours, guided for and by the blind
Cool ruler standing still sweating through the shades
He knew those lights only grew bright
z
I guess by now you can tell you miss me
The baddest motherfucker in rap history
One to the temple put you out your misery
That's not an album
somewhere...
Words and music: john jack jr
2022 Dusty Boy Music/BMI ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Vocals, instruments and all other noises by john jack
Each of these
even up my sleeve
A million albums sold and it's hard to believe
Well it's true homeboy, it's not a lie
I used to sell tapes on Sunnyside
I used
Yeah, this album is dedicated
To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all the people that lived above the buildings that I
[Nas]
The Firm, Trackmasters, Escobar, Allure Keep it raw!
A-yo the bridge keep rockin
we comin through bottles popin
Allure when your album
make a plan, a plan
The man who made this album
I hope the outcome
Is how I wanted
I am being taunted
By idiots
Y'all is hideous
This album shall be
to life than sayin' I figured it out?
Is there more? Yeah
Sweeter the berry, the blacker the juice
The boy is back in the booth, ready to tap into
reverse, might ski all summer, do beach in winter
I just laugh when they say that I can't go higher, I'm a frequent flyer
My last album's cold but my new
pop style for 30 hours, then let him repeat
Now, you poppin' up with the jokes, I'm dead, I'm asleep
I just left from over by y'all puttin' pen
Kells make it hurt at the same time feel good!
Label me a bad boy, true but I; m damn good
I'm rich as hell but I'm straight up out the damn hood
F**k
KXNG CROOKED, Eastside, Long Beach, California
My name is KXNG CROOKED
I snap on you rappers often
When I'm spazzin' I'm just gettin' my
listenin'
And I'm a smooth operator by instinct
Word to Sade, walkin' 'round broad day
Like hey, with the windows down, I'm on Broadway
And it was just
By the time you hear this song
It's gon be too late
The album been done dropped
You gotta listen to what I gotta say
Gunshots ringing off in
often, prolly
If I talk about this shit more often, more often
I ain't never fuckin' with no sneak diss
Best get off my dick, boy, you better not
program
Donald-D is who I am, damn
Atttempt to do this, boy, you're takin a risk
'Cause my voice sounds doper than a compact disc
Styles and lyrics,
scared for years to try to do this album
How you follow up a classic? What's the outcome?
Failure and tragedy, now everybody's mad at me
'Cause I ain't
barefoot in the streets, on the beach
E'o Brasil - this is Brasil
Pais porrada - hardcore country
Brasil, Pais Porrada
As torcidas - organized soccer
not playin', understand what I'm sayin'
Catch a sucker in my way, and I'm slayin'
Takin' no shorts, so I'm vital sign
You can tell by my lines that
sixty
Gimme the mic an I'ma solve all mystery
I dare any punk to try to step up and diss me
'cause when he do, that's when he kiss dee
Titles go by
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