Lyrics:
, 'kay, 'kay, 'kay
'Cause with you, i'd fall in love again
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Tell me, would you do the same thing?
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Are you
I Russel Simmon’d
Heart was on frigid
I had to pivot
To make a living
Last year was dead
Now I’m dead serious /
When I say address me as my alias
a pas d'hypocrites
Ils ont parlés parlés parlés sur moi
Laisses-les parler
Mai kay vé kay vé yo
Laisses-les parler
Ils ont parlés parlés parlés sur moi
then we camp out
Screamin', "Fuck the world", never catch me with my pants down
Always been a stand up guy, I'd rather stand out
Raf Simons, Stan
attack, run and tell that
If you'd like to know, yes, I am on acid
Who could it be? K-ID
Searching all day in the streets for DMT
Don't sip it, though - it
Tell me "fuck you" I'll tell you fuck
You back with my index finger
I can flip on some killershit
But I'd rather keep cool
Keep it so remind it try not
attack, run and tell that
If you'd like to know, yes, I am on acid
Who could it be? K-ID
Searching all day in the streets for DMT
Don't sip it, though - it
You knock me out you're like a well oiled Smith and Wesson
Hot and ready, ready to use
Dressed to the nines, you know you don't look fifteen,
No... that's not the hi-fi, that's Smith
Hhm? What'd you say?
I said: You're Smith, and
Could you tell us what hi-fi is?
That's what I thought you
Bois-Caïman c'est un site sacré tapi en Plaine du Nord
Une date singulière qui en mémoire résonne encore
C'est une nuit de tempêtes d'éclairs et de
reality, but you will hear none
They'd rather exaggerate a little fiction
Some say no to drugs, and take a stand
But after the show, they go looking for
Uh, yeah, aye, aye
Bring it back with the strap
Fuck a mag, watch me thrash, yuh
Shawty hit up on the chest
I'm gripping the neck bitch
(What'd you
and Slick Rick
'La Di Da Di, Who likes to party?' was the fat shit
I mean I saw this hip-hop thing on every level
Chuck D, PE, yes the rhythm and the rebel
a million)
M-E-L-Man, niggas call me Most
I be rockin' on the East and the West Coast
Your mail go back like Emmitt Smith's hairline
With Jordache devils
to me?
You can’t afford the fee.
I say fuck a B.
You look up to me.
Now she want the D.
So damn leisurely.
You is feelin’ me.
This flow kill a B.
Rappin
It was the thirty-first gatherin'
of the Thompsons, Jones and Smiths
there were tables full of chicken,
taters, collard greens and grits
Well it all
then muthafucka, you gay
Ya'll can save this drama for Kay Slay, like who's fucking my chick
Or writing books about sucking my dick
Now I don't give
En vé pa pon nonm adan kaz
En ké gadé pou fey
Pas konprann ou kay kouyé mwen
Endépendant' gyal ki la
Pa vini gratew
Pa vini konpran ou kay ay si mwen
I'm aware of the conspiricies, discussion is brief
They're building more prisons, spendin less on schools
On the block Smith & Wess-ons and Teflons
up
Crodie, turn me up
Got a fur on in Tampa, got me burnin' up
Shorty say she graduated, she ain't learn enough
Play your album, track one, 'kay, I
expenses
and that I had the key
to a safety deposit box,
with treasury bonds and the key
to another safety deposit box
where I'd stashed away
the only
she was fuckin' with my nigga
So the question is, the question is
What would Pluto do? He'd fuck the ho, so I did it (yeah, yeah)
What would Pluto
decide to show up
That's my flight time
Tell the pilot I'm about to roll a doobie up
Louis'd up, bitches want a snack
Scooby Doo me up ruby'd up
Fruity
Kay Slay! (Yeah)
Yo
Drama King! Yeah, (check it out, check it out)
O Trice!
(Shady Records nigga, it's goin' down once again, boy)
It's just
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