Lyrics:
them niggaz they don't live it
Said it in a sentence, they might say how they distribute
When you see em they be timid, they ain't even independent
They
Yea these niggas they dissing my ex said she miss me
I hit it she threw it back just like a frisbee
I keep me a rocket like Houston no Whitney
I'm
hands mid back proper placement
It's only 3 am we still have more time
I saw u when u entered I knew tonight u would b mine
Took u by the hand and we
was recording the album:
Cherry Bomb! The album!
I had a show New Year's 2015
And I haven't came out with music in a while
Damn, finally, you gonna
all live in a Jar sim
That was made by him
And his four limbs
[Chorus]
Beasten, beasten, beasten, beasten, beasten, beasten
Oh yeah, did I mention,
fuckin' mouth (he won't)
Live at the Oscars, you can't make up this story
Her boo August Alsina got beat up by Tory
Jada probably called him to see if he
drown all these haters, rest in peace to Whitney Houston
Cars, money, girls and the clothes
Aw man, you sold your soul
Naw man, mad people was frontin'
Aw
got weed up in my Gucci jeans
I been trippin off this juice I’m having lucid dreams
High writing notes I live how Whitney Houston sings
Smoking piccolo
live! Not only that but you've got a bumper package of serious songs.... live! Goodness!
Released the 23rd of September 1985, and they got to a chart
A little bit high
Not everybody lives
But everybody dies
Bad bitch she a freak, She wanna get cuffed
You know how it goes
We don't take no loss, we work with
for any mood
Now Rasky how you take get deal pass me
I no know wetin Kenny’s dem hope to do by signing you (Why)
Ba lyrics ba sense ba concept
Wetin you
hope to do by signing you (Why)
Ba lyrics ba sense ba concept
Wetin you get nonsense
You even talk say fakers dey out there
Out where shey where you
take it with me
Bad bitch with tig ol' bitties down in Houston, she my Whitney
Geeked together, geeked forever, have my kids or have kidneys
They clever,
Yeah, be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way, nigga
Some real shit right here, nigga
This will be the realest shit you
My bitch like Whitney Houston
I just fucked her in a bath tub
Feeling like Deshaun
Made your ho give me a back rub
Bitch Ima a geek monster
Ain't
So I suggest you find God or somethin', cause like Whitney Houston said
"You have nothing, nothing, nothing for me!"
I kept it clean but it could'a
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
psychedelics
Just for supper hey yea
How you grew up and the streets
Was like your mother hey yea
I know sin cities pretty
Im in houston like I'm whitney
All my
optimism
Keep your head up as if 'Pac was livin'
In the skies, wise words fall down
You can get lit, get live, get down Come on
August Greene y'all
[Intro: Young Jeezy]
Yeah, be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this by the way nigga, some real shit right here nigga
This'll be
stuck like I made a thousand rappers put shackles on they feet wit me,
And then I broke free, I'll let 'em loose when Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston
when the dope game got dangerous
In my interviews talking plug talk
On my last album I explained it (I explained it)
With a fork telling you let
drown all these haters, rest in peace to Whitney Houston
Cars, money, girls and the clothes
Aw man, you sold your soul
Naw man, mad people was frontin'
Aw
attitude
It's time to take off your cool
If it make you want to move, then move
My niggaz get up on it, live bitches throw it back
Ma, act like you want
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