Lyrics:
sticks off DJ Quik's plate
(Hook)
(Verse 2: Blaq Poet)
Nobody knows I started it, nobody cares either
Niggas pulling out them heaters, them fire
to the next,
Clocks switch when you least expect it and make the simplest shit complex,
The baby face got the planet fooled,
Books get judged by the covers
on fallin'
Even though we were bad
It'll cover the filth
We should both just be glad
And spend spend spend
This Chris-Christmas together
I married you last
Doublewide Quick Stop midnight T-top
Jack in her Cherry Coke town
Momma and daddy put their roots right here
'Cause this is where the car broke
don't shoot anymore
My deal got signed so the spirits all up
We shot the album front cover up by the shops
We just wanna rep the manor right, give it
actions that mean to stay on the drop when I sneak
You live with it you die by the gun so I keep it in reach
Ain't no nigga takin mine so if you reach you
featuring DJ Rogers Puff
[Intro: La the Darkman (DJ Rogers & Puff)]
Yeah. Yeah. One. Two.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. (Oh)
Time for
Check, check, check, yo, we here M-I-S-S-O-U-R-I
For sure, we gon' hold that down for St. Louis no doubt
My nigga Kyjuan gon' kick this shit out
The fame, fame
Lady Gaga dJ Vice
Summerboy
One, two, three
Nowhere yeah, we’re goin' nowhere fast
Maybe this time
I’ll be yours, you’ll be mine
year, lick machete, yeah
You like professin
But you failin on your test this year
"Survival!" + "SKILLS!" cuts and
Scratches by DJ Revolution
almost triple play it off
The DJ spinnin' the last records, by this time they half naked
Same place, same time tomorrow they'll be back at it
[Chorus 4x]
Ran up on this cat, he thought was me, and started flexing
You know I ain't even with that, so he gon' have to get that just on GP
Try to creep me,
While I'm surrounded by bitches with guns and sex toys
Blind love for money, head, and warm steel
Coke off the boat wrapped in banana peels
Life's so
the mix clean
And me
Your bartender
Ricky 50
At your service
I'm glad you could make
Reservations were filling up
And don't worry bout the cover
the game go check the record books
When rappers couldn't get DJs to play em like the second hooks
And nowadays vultures are circling
And certain men are
the sediment
Cuz being evil fucking sucks
This is a funeral hymn
For the average ravenous cat
That lost the battle with tattlin
And got hit with the javelin
Woke up this morning, 't was a fine sunny day
I said daddy please stay, but he had to run away
Cause he was busy, busy makin' lots of gold
So I
goodbye so call my name out
And watch how everybody run for cover
Cause they know I'm
A heartless motherfucker, until I die
This be the realest shit I ever
Doja Cat, the way she gon', do what I "Say So" (Ugh)
She wanna go out, told her make sure daddy says it's okay though (Ugh)
She wanna make plays, I wanna
This is a song
About best friends
John Roy
Was a boy I knew
Since he was three
And I was two
Grew up two little houses
Down from me
The only
Glah
I'm working for larger
She calling me daddy but I'm not the father (Nope)
I fuck with a rubber I can't have a daughter (Ehh)
It's hell in
and a Glock fifty (let's go)
BM baby daddy keep on talkin' real silly (pussy)
I'll shoot this bitch up on Father's Day, nigga play with me (pussy)
Shooter
the cool in you
Or it'll be a sad love song being sung by Toni Braxton
And I'll dissect you like a fraction
All you wannabe top cat MCs, I'll pop you like
Ran up on this cat, he thought was me, and started flexing
You know I ain't even with that, so he gon' have to get that just on GP
Try to creep me,
.jpg/300px-Stronger_tour,_Manchester_Arena_Cover_Drive_(8083262723).jpg "Cover Drive")
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