Lyrics:
a psychopath
But half the time, while I'm scramblin and gamblin to pay the rent
I'm livin day by day and cent by cent
By the end of the week my knees feel weak,
that, I preach it, my nine reaches
the prestigious, cats that speak this, Willie shit
Flooded pieces, my hand releases, snatches
Smack ya cabbage,
is just the guy to lead a crew
Right up to your face and diss you
Everyone saw me on the last album cover
Holding a pistol something far from
Island
To shows at the garden
Automatic startin' in the drop got
Your bitch pussy fartin
My album about to drop in 7 days
But I still poke a rapper
Obrigado por ouvir até aqui!
Posthumous song by a great friend who is still missing, Osvaldo Sussi
About the album:
""8 centavos e vários nada""
I feel the Aryan in my blood, it's scarier than a Blood
Been looking for holy water, now I'm praying for a flood
It feel like time passing me by
need a week
And by that time I done made bout 2 albums
And proceed to leap, CookUp
These niccas make believe
Kitchen Murder came to fill the vacancy
distracted
For so many days
By pussy and these women
No dough break this bank
I sense I'm falling I'm falling
I'm into something I hate
I'm falling I'm falling
stand it, so whaddayou say
Too $hort can't rap, no fuckin way
But here I am, workin in the studio
And your album ain't out because you're movin slow
I really didn’t have no direction for this song
Like really
Really the album was finished
I just saw this beat heard this beat, whatever
And I got
Yo, summer time holding the nine, split the Vega in half
Jeeps rumble and my dogs puff grass
Bank stopping, hide your rocks, hydraulic
The kid
Yo, summer time holding the nine, split the Vega in half
Jeeps rumble and my dogs puff grass
Bank stopping, hide your rocks, hydraulic
The kid
The way they used it all up and didn't pay the man
And after 2 platinum albums, you call me weak
Cause I don't sell records in the East
Now what's funky,
You said you're gonna get up off the couch
(you won't)
You said you're gonna put an album out
(you won't)
You said you're gonna go out on a limb
(you
piece
I saw so many man act brave
For attention, they only ever get in the grave
And i tried to see things their ways
But in vain, I was blinded by how i
keep faggot like RuPaul
troop to the new sensation fuck that whole wannabe gangster fascination
The illusion is broke, or cock albums mispoke
provide
We got this far so we get two cars and in a high way we did ride
We drive right by the Whoopie Cushion to the West Bank, or so it seems
Check-in
it, my nine reaches
the prestigious, cats that speak this, Willie shit
Flooded pieces, my hand releases, snatches
Smack ya cabbage, half-ass rappers,
fuckin' way
But here I am, workin' in the studio
And your album ain't out because you're movin' slow
By the time you make one I'll be on ten
Hit the studio
The way they used it all up and didn't pay the man
And after 2 platnum albums, you call me weak
Cause I don't sell records in the East
Now what's funky,
Every rap I ever made was about this town
I made 7 whole albums with no James Brown
And even though I love his music, I just can't stand
The way they
niggas sting like a Mosquito bite(Facts)
Daddy is a legend ,Big Willie on my damn team(You know it)
Reminiscing when he passed , was thinking what a damn
was
At so I had to trap
I used to traffic drugs like CVS before GPS
Plus was stuck in my ways
(Waze) before I had the app
I'm from uptown
But now in
more games
[Skin Deep]
I'm on my way out
So many things that you did wrong
You fooled, you lied, cheated
Now my love is gone
And I gave you all I had in
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