Lyrics:
the mailbox
Right by the door, and!
I can’t do right by a hoe
I’m G’d up but through my eyes I see my soul
Too much of a player to go out with a hoe
See me in
ride with me
Yo, on the real
I got skills like a fifth degree black belt
Plus I'm ten times more explicit than the ??
Niggas making schemes
wit'
Cause this is too explicit
For your bitch clique
Gray race coupe, being chased by state troops
Four blockin' and escape routes
Firm grip knowing
wit'
Cause this is too explicit
For your bitch clique
Gray race coupe, being chased by state troops
Four blockin' and escape routes
Firm grip knowing
make them boys dump
It's like that for real
It's like that for real
Yo, yeah
If you hit 'em in the head with the dummies
Then you good
Funeral homes
head back damn that boys wild
Still hear other that try to bite my style
Meanwhile can't even do a freestyle
Say ima make it they sit in denial
I'm
Man
Lil bro
I just need you to
Keep yo head up
I know times is getting hard
And things is rough
But
Stay positive
And always stay
True to you man
on its on its on its on
I got what you want
Boy its on its on
Bet your thinking whats the point
The point of this song
Its on its in
Its on its on
Do You
be the misfit as the crew gets dissed quick
Had me thinking I ain’t hip-hop cause I ain’t explicit ain’t spit
I know better cause I know the time… I
explicit
1 on 1 bar for bar ain't no quitin day jobs
Table full of liquor we all suited like a mob
Rappers know the vibes my team we do or die
They be
to the westside)
Dig it (Bounce)
Crack-a-lack it (Yeah)
All night (We ain't goin' no where)
This what it do, boy (We invented this shit)
Ay yo, Snoop
I love
Times are critical
Although I kick the metaphysical
Sometimes my rhymes flow kind of political
All the real B-boys make noise
Here comes the bomb yo
trustin' nobody so I took my money with me
'Cause last time they got me, get me
I said I'm Young by the way, the one by the way
I ain't trippin', I just do
its all bad)
Boy I promise I will never let you go
Said I got I got I got I got yo' back boy
(Now What you call dat)
I got I got I got I got yo
Ah yeah, right about now Compton's in de mothafuckin' house [yeah do it do it]
NWA's in full effect
Hey yo yella boy, kick me that funky-ass beat
make you cold for real
Even though it's hot when its bout to hit
Hot enough to make a bastard do a flip
What you know about geto cheese ?
All she
'89 is my time, yo, '90 is my year
Play that funky music
Play that funky music, white boy
Play that funky music come on, come on, I
Play that funky
What do you know about love
It's not all kisses and hugs, or that feeling you get from above
What do you know about love
Shawty was really a thot, it
Applyin Pressure yeah I'm all about a bag
Bitch we really do what all these other rappers rap
Ion wanna chill bitch ion got time to relax
Left foot on they
of the shit-talker
The lyrical explicit content
The original mutha fucker
I rip the surf, I hit the worst like brass knuckles (damn)
Give em crushes, bust ass
Pray you see tomorrow little boy, you gon' learn
All them pretty bitches leave yo' ass in the urn
You ain't sold your last rock, you just better
a midget
If I see the beat lacking yo boy still gonna kill it
Not with all the bullshit you niggas can feel it
Take it up
Fry it up
Give it back to you
a chocolate strawberry
Boys freshly dipped
It's so true
I'm aka saucy fondue
Gear sick when I walk by
You be like ha-chu
Mix Mike I got you
It's on this time
I
Nizzy your so cute
Everyday I wake up and thank god because I'm blessed
If it's war we at yo neck so ain't no need to wear no vest
TBQ this what I do
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