Lyrics:
at five
Gotta get up, dead or alive
It's hard times in the mill my love
Hard times in the mill
Every mornin' right at six
Don't that ol' bell make you sick
option
If I gotta slap a pussy-ass nigga, I'ma make it look sexy
If I gotta go hard on a bitch, I'ma make it look sexy
I pull up, hop out, air out,
a smoke and a slap domino
And me know the dawg them a study and a watch how me make it and a grow
How the outcome just a grow
A just the artist life artist
'em, I beat 'em, I burn 'em
Then I let 'em melt
They never heard of us, but look at me, I'm turning up
I slap the shirt off a stupid simpleton makin
wrist froze, I'm freezing, huh
I made this shit look easy, huh
On your fridge, no Jesus, huh
Like slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap
Okay like,
[Malik B]
Check it out, one two
M-illi-tant
I be the, alias Malik be
Internationale rationale
All the people up 68th Ave.
and across Broad
checks that sign right
And I get lil' boys for they doe on prom night
Cause I do my thing, knots in a pocket
Slap!Slap!Slap!
All up in your knogen,
down again
Slap your mammy down
Slap your pappy down again
(Oh, move it up and down now)
Slap your mammy down
Slap your pappy down again
(Oh, move
down again
Slap your mammy down
Slap your pappy down again
(Oh, move it up and down now)
Slap your mammy down
Slap your pappy down again
(Oh, move
Dutch boy
And his little Dutch Girl
Fell in love by the mill one night
Up above, the Dutch moon made the scene complete
They both had so much moon, that
High five!
Low five!
Slap me five!
Down low! Too slow!
When it's time to celebrate
With all your friends
There is something you can do
Just open up
throw some money
Slap her in the booty, with some money
(Flocka Waka Flocka Waka)
Clap clap clap for my money
Clap clap clap if you count money
Clap clap
Who designed the snowflake
Who made the planet spin
Who came up with new born babies skin
Who created seasons
The cycle of rebirth
Who
I think about them
Can't hear it coming down the hallway stairs from the parking lot
It's too loud
Three's not a crowd all up in it
Slow fire
Check it out, one two
M-illi-tant
I be the, alias Malik B
Internationale rationale
All the people up 68th Ave.
And across Broad Street
Or Silk Lane
Bankhead, shawty, yeah you know what it is
Pockets full of number of rubber bands and bills
Came up around that standard wheel
Was finna do a deal about 60
I'm fucked up
We fucked up
Sum gully shit
We on sum gully shit
Me and my niggas
Who pays those bills
Ayannah mills
Niggas out here with them steals
a little Dutch boy
And his little Dutch Girl
Fell in love by the mill one night
Up above, the Dutch moon made the scene complete
They both had so much
If you gonna be king of the hill
You can't make it at the cotton mill
If you gonna be king of the hill
You can't make it at the cotton mill
Get put
(辛い記憶も)
一気に (時代の roar)
即 飲み干す (自分と共存)
一気に (okay now I'm ready fo' sho')
さあ 飲め飲め飲め飲め このグラス ay
さあ 酔え酔え酔え 今 to your artist
ワンショット (one shot) ツーショット
out
Pop shit with the 3rd, knock your fronts out
Blew your blunts out you wings stuck up your ass
Gassed you up then slap you with my staff
I seen your
that Yakk
Slap that Yakk
Slap that Yakk
Slap that Yakk
Slap that Yakk
Slap that Yakk
Why you backin' up, boy
Why the hell you backin' up, boy
Boy, why
All alone, or in two's
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands
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