Lyrics:
I got an 80's ghetto blaster in my car
I wanna drive to a place so goddamn far
The week pass by, so many nine to five
Sunny days and music by my
through my hood village
Show cats Raiderz of The Lost album
Prepared for the Spillage
I was on the mission field
And I was spitting for real
Taking
Show cats Raiderz of The Lost album
Prepared for the Spillage
I was on the mission field
And I was spitting for real
Taking the Gospel message
must be crazy, nigga
Onе song for my deluxe is all I need to do
These puppies barkin'
They done bit off more than they can chew
My album just dropped
I'm
you hear the album
He-he-hey
I like to give a shout to my son [Name]
And ?? to Eric the Wiz
Cavalier
Of course Cavalier, it's his album
[Name]
My man
want to bite off my flow son
I don't think no one, got that, rock a hot track
Like me, nice to the Sauce? Naw
Spit rounds, it's rough did I mention
Gettin' rich was my only plan (ayy)
'Cause you can't raise my son and have an OnlyFans (facts)
Project windows was my only fans (yeah)
Take my momma out
album had no famous guest appearances
The outcome: I'm crowned the best lyricist
Many years on this professional level
Why would you question who's
take what I want
So, you tried to front, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
You ain't real, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
My, first album had no famous guest
take what I want, so
You tried to front
Hope you got yourself a gun
You ain't real, hope you got yourself a gun
My first album had no
Famous guest
I dey take do so my album
Every song I record ɛwɔ number
This war started that's his son
I was the boy born by chance
In a world my dad harm is done
a GOAT like C
They ain't a GOAT like SK
Last op came out in the public eye
Broski put em in the sun
I just bagged a half a brick by eye
Now I'm just
berattas, stack cheddar
When the Village was termed the Felix Mitchell, D and Black era
Real goodfellas, the whole Ville was down for whatever
Protected by
acknowledge you (What's going on son?)
Step by step on this dim lit path
I gotta lead my people out of this wrath
But I'm lost and don't know if my way is
To stand out and that's word
But Lord, if that's true, oh not to doubt you
Cause that's true
Sons are not to be falling in the ditch
Though their light is
the Yellow Pages under smooth shit
'Cause Red ain't down for the bullshit
Niggas fucked up by letting me make an album
(How come, rude boy?)
To get
j'm'incline, tous les vrais sont vaincus
Aucune balle n'est perdue
Même logée dans ton cul
Délit d'fuite sur ça! Drive by sur ça!
Tise et fume sur ça! Ça sniffe
on the back
I'm like the gun at the race, son you only get one shot
My album is the finish line, here's where your run stops
'bout to go fishin with a clip
by their roots
All the roots live underground, water down me no salute!
They pimping the culture, the same vulture who stole ya agriculture
My vocab is
you up and slap you till your teeth are loose
I've seen the noose and will not get lynched by the industry
Nor will I have a A and R pimpin' me
a legend?
I just got ten number one albums, maybe now eleven
More hits than a "Now! Eleven"
That is no reason to treat me like I'm somehow from outta
boy
On the outskirts, of what works
Live those who go for broke, and merk to get merked
Live by the sword and die by the semi
Not part of my ways, but
And I heard ya album, this must be something you're new at
'Cause I rather hear a Lil' Wayne/Lil' Zane duet
My cellphone stay ringin', like a slap in
[OC]
The whole city's under siege when we come through wit guns blazin
You need to take a seat son, you just started shavin
Respect ya elders,
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