Lyrics:
lucky, my God! Flight of Icarus in those grubby dirty by now horribly sticky little fingers and
hands and grubby palms, and oh what else is grubby, I don't
I'm like wassup hoe?
Where you been?
What you know about?
Oh no!
Who let 'em in? I'ma show 'em out
Never know
Who's really down or just down
the gats
They get the chance to grip 'em
And they bullets got bald heads
Clips full of cancer victims
Ya boy go dumb but I'm a man of wisdom
If this retard
the scene
I left the beat off in a stretcher
(Leave it in a stretcher)
Yeah, look
Tell them boys "Catch up", yeah (Tell 'em)
Tell them boys "Catch up", yeah
'bout no muthafuckin' people
I won't rest till I see a nigga dead in the concrete
I be a TRU Soulja till I'm buried
I leave 'em worried, gettin' high for
the funk I be pumpin up in em
With this and it's the
Yeah - Tung Twista
Oooooweee
Haa-haa
Boy, if that ain't bad, my name ain't Lewis Tyrone Chillinfoot,
your son," girl, don't trip about it
Walk up in with apple sauce and broccoli
Little Bobby, better eat your greens, boy, don't give me lip about it
Know he hate to see Young Harry run it up
Use to shit on me I got more followers
Tell that boy he better hurry and follow up
I did what I could for em
um
And I’ve watched that by the way
It’s been cool to see how
Are you enjoying that
KW: - Enjoying what?
PW: I’m thinking of a way to put it…How
Are
brudda caught a case
I'll see em by July
Yea
I'm waisting it down
Still don't know when I come down
Say she wanted love
I'm in love with my life
Boy I
can't tell you how I got 'em, in
Hold on, check my fucking safe
50 xans, 50 bags in, 50 bags of kush in
Change the beat up, we can go some more!
My
Unlock with a key lava Tennessee call that vol-cano
Are you OK? No Soulja Boy Tell 'Em
It's my guy Kano uh yeah
Let's kick it on easy play the game
Round
met, we wasn't on the same page
From pettiness understandings that got cleared up with age
Two young boys who was ready to mash
Put P A on the map
first met, we wasn't on the same page
From pettiness understandings that got cleared up with age
Two young boys who was ready to mash
Put P
bastard style has just been stuck
By a sticker with a 'frigerator lickin'
What if how's about why would ever thought that
The napalm would bust your
can tell, when I stop 'em still
Rollin on the Sprees
We gon' leave a trail of rappers still
Goin on them keys (yeahhh)
I think of me of when I long
writing songs with no hooks
And I’m still crossing instrumentals off of my books
Im pretty high most the time you cant tell by my looks
It’s visine, cause I
bullets flushed em
That nigga died? His mama cried? Well tell that bitch that I said fuck her,
(You stupid mother fucker)
Knew that you ain't love em
Let em
looking up to the man I feel like always on go
Too hard I be ridiculous
Feel I'm one of the sickest
Tell them boys they can get it
Ain't tripping bout no
hard
I tell you niggaz that we go hard
All the hoes dey smile at us
I tell you niggaz that we go hard yeah tell em
I tell you niggaz that we ball hard
goin fly bout it
Send em to the sky bout it
Tell the truth why you lie bout it
Murder on my mind death around the corner I ain't hiding from it
I love
I'm a demon I stay on attack
I feel like I'm Soulja cause she make it clap
Cross that boy up someone get him a map
Yeah Ty the Vision but Meezy he
a Thugs Mansion
Dear mama don't cry, your baby boy's doin' good
Tell the hommies I'm in heaven and it ain't got hoods
Seen a show with Marvin Gaye last
a call
I could Move through a room full of volters... NICE
And I still turn heads pultagice
Rock a cold chain
Neck full of Soulja ice
You young boys should
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