Lyrics:
of nowhere.
The forest doesn't recognise or intuit
This complicated taxonomy,
This human need for naming,
Just gets on with the job of
Encouraging, coaching
of that, he got the nerve to slay'em on keys
Six jobs, two murders, well aware that death comes in three's
We talkin business sense, my nigga don't get me
to de man dem call Ice Cube (bo! bo!)
And a bust a deuce-deuce or trey-eight bout to get WICKED!
One, two, three and I come with the wicked
style
on
Any nigga in the way we'll pull that k on
Fill his clothes up with holes tell
Him get his J on, yeezus
I'm too rich to be this reckless
Spent two bricks
trying get Steve jobs
Apple of my eye tell me I'm thee god
Built in the 90s moving like a B5
Father named me laire cuz I been a G 5
Moving like a G 5,
Flowing for more than your amusement
-In all honesty, this is honestly the realest I’ma be
So expect a little more than just the comedy
-Let’s get it
experiencing
what it's like to have 50,000 dicks getting sucked by black holes and you're like this isn't enough.
These black holes are actually not very good
might be time to relocate again (yeah)
Blessed and highly flavored (yeah)
We all petrified by paper (mhmm)
Couple of them pretty piano beats
So I can
sister
Cryin' cause she doesn't have a dress
Without a patch, for the party to go
Oh, but she knows, she'll get by
She is... Livin' In The Love
from here?
No, ah.. which one is it?
(burp) excuse me. It's the one by the airport... you know... cause we gotta get up early an'.. fly outta here in
cryin' cause she doesn't have a dress without a patch
For the party to go oh but you know she'll get by
She is livin' in the love of the common people
hawk while pigs talk
Been trained by the best and we got guns, go back, collect when the job's done
It's that murder shit, when we creep on your block
his homie to park the truck, in the hill it wan nobody but us
On Mary Lee Porch tired of hearing her fuss, Dave in the house tryna roll up a blunt
left
Dollar for a pie slice, split it in two
The rest to the debts and IOUs
Gotta get a job? There's a hole in the resume
Where were you? I was chasing
the pen
Or the rush from the stage
With Chris Shawan and Dave
Thinking it was easy
To make a song and get paid
Cause we was kids
The stupid shit we did
To try and tell you what you meant
And take yo common sense
Keep it a buck we got nut jobs on each side
Obama dropped bombs and they gave him a nobel peace
Particular aspect of existence shit life
This is all about this place this job
All about the mission I'm on
Would crave to get a bit of syncopated
and graphic grammar
My verbal murder strech from Alaska to Alabama
Get touched by my Arm and Hammer
All across the planet niggas crumble like granite
a tissue for my tear
Should I drink wine and brandy
Or get a job puttin' stripes on candy
Or put a hole in donuts?
Cause when you're broke, your
, homeless
i done had jobs, black
boss man yellin at the top of his lungs about a fuckin big mac (get that burger)
you damn near fired a restaurant manager
Rewind the clip
Yeah, I'll start by taking back
It's Spring of '17
Sitting shotgun there in my car
You said celebrities are sad, no matter how big or small
My verbals and graphic grammar
My verbal murder stretch from
Alaska to Alabama
Get touched by my Arm & Hammer
All across the planet
Niggas crumble like
face
Cause y'all fuck at a snail's pace
And you might get sprayed with mace
By the ebony
So when she's doing her job you better let her be
Don't try
Who at the bottom of the bucket and top of the totem pole, enclosed
In another hole I can't get out of
Imma say it louder
We posses the power that we
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