Lyrics:
thugs from the R-O-C
Sigel Sigel in the house
Uh-huh, sick bastard
Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer
Uhh, uhh, Memph Bleek in
from the R-O-C
Sigel Sigel in the house
Uh-huh, sick bastard
Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer
uh, uh, Memph Bleek in the house
Roosevelt High
Johnny Ray Tex Scooter and Lorenzo too
It's T.W. Lou from the boogaloo
Every soul that passes by
This songs to you from the Jackson 5
_____________________________________________________________________
*taken from the album entitled "The Vegetarians of Love"
Written by Bob Geldof
We still soakin' it all in ourselves
Hollywood Hav', yeah nigga, V.I.P., yeah
It's our means, Curtis, 'Billion Dollar Budget? Jackson
Go 'head be mad
pine.
Indo’, fire, and rhymes, get low, and fire blind...
Singing to the hoes, the Jackson minus the 5...
Soulja minus the Draco,
Lil’ nigga from Case
a meeting getting my ass kissed (no homo)
By a white man 'cause his daughter fuck with my ad-libs (uh-oh)
I done dropped dick in her friend, I'm like, "My
the worst shit
Everything and every motherfucker gets dealt with accordingly
Mark my words
See I remember on The Coming album
You know when there was only
[Chorus]
Ridin, survivin
Tryin not to die and tryna cop a island
5'9" and, sleazy
The game needs me, cause I'm drama
I got problems, I can't resolve
Still hustlin' at five in the mornin'
These retro Jordan's ain't never walked a mile and I'm knowin'
No matter what they said, heavy the head
Who
Verse 1:
Don't underestimate the reach
Here comes that city brother who lives by the beach
Defari work for Likwit organize
Dodger hats
wicked deams (deamons)
I keep my pistol by my bedside one in the chamber
Preoccupied with homocide my life's in danger
Rollin down the four-five beware
cm I ratchet?
Pulling up with the ratchet
Hat backwards
Gas on me like craftsman
Steve Jackson
cll the smoke for you woke niggaz
Like McGc
BcBY BcBY
heavy She weighs more than a 3500 Chevy She lifted her belly, wack surprise Pussy had fro like the Jackson 5! Just then, rounds! Rounds! Get down! They
else)
Fuck arguing and harvesting the feelings, yo, I'd rather be by my fucking self
(Self, self, self, self)
'Til about two AM And I call back and I
grind
Just copped a maroon 5, no Adam Levine
Came a man by myself, only father was time
I know that she relate baby daddy ain't shit
So she raised that
own
Whether we did diamond or hardly sold
We did it for our soul
Hop out the V and park by Neiman Marcus
Hope I don't see a snatch and grab
They
I hit you with the razor from cheek to chin?
What if Mike Jackson never would have bleached his skin?
What if you never knew things that you
Dragon was cancelled
By Joe Motte himself
So let that phony
Whiny bitch be up
All night and pout
Who is it you think
I am here today?
Jackson Marquis will
waiting)
(At the airport like five days like I'm a beetle or something)
(That's really something) And I traveled each, and every highway
(Seen the best
out brodie hit his bitch, shit
He prolly gon' cry
If it ain't the five-seven, shit
It's prolly four-five
RIP Hutch, look at the kit, shit
You'll prolly
on Jackson
Angie tried to set me up the ruler drilla backed it
I am not Jamaican but Alexa like mi accent
Wassy boys just walked into the building we might tax
Baby on
No, never fuck a chick that got Bakers on
Or no Michael Kors
I'm on the same shit that Mike was on
Jordan, Jackson, Tyson on
I've seen
and Ike’s
That shit hit like Mike Tyson’s right
My shit smack Joe Jackson Five
Prescriptions like its Mike and Ike’s
I can’t do no 9 to 5
Fuck a dike I might
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