Lyrics:
in a nigga house wit a black tee
Gucci Mane, lil' flair got a million dollar mouthpiece
Black Tee, black rag, even got a black mask
Leaving out ya
the muhfuckin life of the party
Feelin so famous but a nigga just started
I'm not a Rapper, imma muhfuckin artist
So iced out like I live in the artic
Two steps
Around the, around the (Tee's mix)
Around the, around the (Tee's mix)
Around the, around the (Tee's mix)
(Tee's mix)
(Tee's, Tee's mix)
(Tee's, Tee's
Yo, yeah, dat way
I mean, you know this not a diss record
I don't sneak diss
This just for the record, just facts
Your artists be taking my
home till morning
Because he told us so
Tee dum, tee dee
A teedle ee do tee day
We're out for fun
And this is the game we play:
Come on, join in
And sing
Thanks to Tee Dee I've been on another wave
Competition look like they just run in place
Thanks to Tee Dee I went up a couple plays
Mama pray for Tee
tee
Hispanic, cracker, nigga even yangs wearing white tees
Hit the club deep and we all got a white tees
A throwback, no gat, hell naw that don't
Swisher Sweets, no more Honey Buns
Fresh white tee, bright like the sun
Only nigga round here rockin' Mishka
I'm through your hood, you ain't got no
it
Girls wear white tees, boys wear white tees
Niggaz in the trap nigga bet they got a white tee
I wear a white tee, you wear a white tee
The next day
Yow yow aaaah out my comfort zone heh merc merc hehheh curian curian
Tmg or die nigga yow
Like a nad kidney man inoperable
Artist life artist life
can't fade me
"for America's most complete artist"
"Quik.." "What kind of name is that for a nigga?"
"for America's mo-mo-mo-mo
most complete
love Tee Grizzley
Ay, you know that nigga Tee? (You know him?)
He really my cousin
He used to sell work, I'm the reason he was plugged in (I plugged
Just a white tee and a swap meet sweater
My life is likely to see great endeavors
But I can't win if I can't get it together
What I gotta do in order
tee, chrome hearted (Chrome hearted)
Finna paint her face like a nigga is a artist
Front flip in the pussy like a nigga Jeff Hardy
What, you think
P!
Real artists
Fake artists
Hot artists
Wack artists
Hard artists
Soft artists
I'm addressing all artists
I'm a prisoner, a slave to this
hottest signed artist, don dada, to G
Street lord, rock bottom, Godfather and P
D-Boy, Rottweiler, Sean, Sada and Tee
Standin' on the corner three days,
Yo, who dat boy? Who him is?
Him that nig-ga, I swear
Stand up guy, him don't need no chair
Well, where the fuck him at?
'Cause nigga, I'm right
tee-tee-tee-tee-teeh tee-tee-teeh yah-ho!
(Pom-pom pom-pom-po-po-pom pom
Po-po-po pom-pom bro-po-po-po-pom
A-rum-pa-pom-pom a-rum-pa-pom-pom
A-rum-pa-pom-pom)
La la la
There are no lyrics to this track. It is intentionally blank, with each of the 71 seconds representing one of the years that the artist's father,
Your next favourite artist (Artist , Artist , Artist)
You're my favourite artist (Artist)
hoes, Forces, Adidas pants and a tee, nigga (what the fuck?)
They like how? That don't even match
Okay, hold on, take my phone, baby
Let's go
I'm
back at home
Don't wanna hang around, they a stay at home
They all got jobs and kids and wake up before noon
Yodel-odel-ay-ee-tee
the 'yes man'
I'm in my polo Tee, Gucci sweat pants
She on a Jubilee call me the X-man
Pa-pa-pass me the dutch with cha left hand
I got the whole club
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