Lyrics:
what we do best
Flock his projects, that's a home run, Day
The baseball is what we do best
Carpe diem, that's how you say seize the day in French
I stand
can keep spazzing out nigga that’s my intention
I do not fuck you niggas bodybag all of yo written probably take all of yo bitches den give um da
and insanity
That seems to come without warning
It's always after me
I'm trying to live my life and do what Is right
But if you test me boy
Blow you up like
do like that sometimes
But one day, one day, the old boy got sick and he had to come home
I don't have to tell you what he found
Oh, yeah, it hurt
hard as fuck, I make you ask what was it
Boy you should have known by now, Eazy does it
I was knocking motherfuckers out
What's your name boy
Funky,
? (Now what you gonna do?)
'Cause I remember all those years, how it was when you were here
I remember how it was (what), how it was when you were
right left
Yo left yo left yo left right left
I'm feeling crazy
I've got my mind made up
I'm in my fatigues and I'm ready for war
Hear the drummer
brother could do no wrong and I became
The Invisible Boy, the proverbial 'black sheep' and
I soon figured out that red and black don't mix.
The beatings I
what I'm sayin'?
Oh my god! Santa, I know that I have been a naughty this year but...
If you just allow me to be just a little bit more naughty hehe
Valero, I whip Camaros
I know people who got sticks
They call 'em they little drummer boy
And when it gets cold
They at your door sinigin' Christmas carols
shrug scars, you see a lot of hoes at thug bars
I don't care what these beats my do
We'll sun you, plus I see right through
It's way it means to me
out
But what's right for me or strange to you
Shouldn't make a damn on what you do
'Cause whether or not you make it through,
I thought that you
to hoes I'm Frankowitak
Or maybe Simon how I make these bitches do the shit I say
Bald head'll knock you down who wanna squabble Money May
That what you get
I got a feelin' nigga rillin' and my money be the root
Look up at da stars she like, honey where the roof?
Pull up, hear the dogs, canaries dey go
you seen and what you saw?
Now my name starts your sentence, you'z a hater by law
I'm by far tighter than training bras on Dolly Parton
You think
about you
I travel all over the world singing good old country music
It makes me feel so good to hear them cheer
Some like for me to sing the hits I do
Smoke a blunt for me too, I'm starin' through your rearview
You ain't knowin' what we mean by starin' through the rearview
So since you ain't knowin'
ever want to do is be a rich nigga
Now I did everything they said I couldn't do
(Uh, huh) if you had no other
Choice nigga wouldn't you?
What'cha know
in my blood, you can tell by the way I walk
Oh lawd, more styles than a barber shop, call the cops
People in the way want to baller block
Little do
barf it back up!
Now, devil, do you hear?
Look:
"blow it out your ass, motorcycle man!
I mean, i am the devil, do you understand?
Just what will you give
Smoke a blunt for me too, I'm starin' through your rearview
You ain't knowin' what we mean by starin' through the rearview
So since you ain't knowin'
fellas do you mind if I join in and play along?
Everybody, yeah
Just a little bit of drum
Ah, Well I think the drummer has found a new groove
bitch and
Her lips phat
I just rolled a bag
Then I hit that
You got her a bag
It's a big bag
You got her a ring
So she can brag
Little do you know that
the wifebeat'
Three-X-T, I'm Lincoln now, you can't see the pound
Got a little gut, so gat sit tucked (fuck)
I run wild, gun high, L.A. style
Bang the Roscoe
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