Lyrics:
to insane, I rain firewater
Tape recorder, can't be saved by a court order
I got my sword cross your throat you joke
We on the run with the golden guns, get
position of number 19. Hmmm... Not alot of
people remember that. But, I do! Cause I played on them! Hah! Si! Now look, Murders in the Rue.... Oh by
the way,
One two, one two, one two
Yo, I be the Big Illinois, here to build and destroy
I come on your deck, on your set
On your strip, through your
I just pound in it pound in it
I really feel like I'm doin this shit for nothin
Make a album in three weeks and it'll a be tight if ya lucky
And I
Gotta do what I gotta do
Yeah
Uh, all my exes live in Texas like I'm George Strait
Or they go to Georgia State where, tuition is handled
By
nasal, blood becomes lukewarm
Tell the woman be easy naah squeeze the charmin'
Test Wyclef, see death flesh get scorned
Beat you so bad make you feel
lukewarm
Tell the woman be easy naah squeeze the charmin
Test Wyclef, see death flesh get scorned
Beat you so bad make you feel like you ain't wanna be
"If you put a bunch of rappers with their notebooks against
Ynot and Common Sense, they will be lynched"
The Late Show! (And you don't stop!)
Common
make a plan, a plan
The man who made this album
I hope the outcome
Is how I wanted
I am being taunted
By idiots
Y'all is hideous
This album shall be
12th of February 1982, If I said that
already, too f'king bad! Ah, it was first released, as I said, whenever it was, featuring Bruce on vocals. Now
of sinners baby I'm a Cole album
When my album drops, niggas know it'll be a cold album
Negative energy, nigga I can't have it
When I prophesy, feeble minds
swear my lyrics won’t be half as bad
I’ll write all the music
But the drums will still be played by Chad
Let me write Chili Peppers an album
Let me write
to breathe if it requires assistance
Just, just shut down my system
I'm a victim of choosin' bad love, bad luck Lucy
Every man touched seems to be a doozy
guess
Momma be worried she think that I’m next
Bad referee gotta keep me a Tec
Know that that’s foul
Gave em my shoes and he couldn’t walk a mile
Black
nasal, blood becomes lukewarm
Tell the woman be easy naah squeeze the charmin'
Test Wyclef, see death flesh get scorned
Beat you so bad make you feel
We'll go ahead, do your best and find me
Matter of fact, I'll be at your mom's by nine and we'll be fuckin' all night
Disregard the rubber
I'ma pull out
The blind stares
Of a million pairs of eyes
Lookin' hard but won't realize
That they will never see
The P
(You must be goin' blind)
Give me
The blind stares
Of a million pairs of eyes
Lookin' hard but won't realize
That they will never see
The P
(You must be goin' blind)
Give me
arms are wings and I'm takin' flight
And don't plan on stoppin' 'til I
Run outta gas or crash (That'd be bad)
Yeah, my tattoos look like absolute shit
Meow-meow-meow-meow
We might have to sample that for the album
Hahaaaaa the cat album by the dog
Meow the Jewels meow-meow-meow-meow
Meow-meow-meow-meow
I’m sorry George Floyd got killed, I kneel
But I don’t feel white guilt, that’s real
Had guns in my face a bunch, by cops
Had my face slammed off my
don't spend it
New Six it's a brand new menace
In a tight end no George Kittle
Nigga play with me I zip you
One by one I'll pick you
That's head by head
making a toast
I Go by the name of Jay Prevost
Playing those numbers in a drunken slumber
Can't be the drummer because I got to be the plumber
Pop another
albums is mid
Made the fifth album, Snoopy WRLD Diss
Good concept, but you still missed
Old songs, you like to reminisce
Claim they bad, but you suck since
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