Lyrics:
in two hours (nigga!)
Bleedin dead on ya back, run ya pockets flat like Federal Tax,
Put ya head on the rack
I'm so bad, the only thing good is death
Mandarin
And communists don’t make as much noise
And they’re really good at sharing their toys
Because I dig you
Like an Aussie digs pies
Like Born-agains
they feel I'm approaching the wealth
Above wealth this is good for my health
Throw this medicine just for myself
And the boys with the ATM tags
I keep
Then it's straight up immigration
Yeah
Five years with no vacation
Re-up very frequent so the bando isn't vacant
In the streets I don't pay no tax
gonna tax him, my list too long, no, he can't bag it
He say I'm toxic, while you complain
I'm getting cabbage (racks)
Can't check me, I get big checks
black and white
Crazy something normal
We're taking off tonight
The good die young
We all know that
And I'm glad
I don't play the hero act
Got my
make a toast
We just hit the strip and 'cause a mazzaleen
Baby hatin' on you bitches mad at me
She said she a good girl, but she bad for me, yeah
You know my heart is just a faithless fool
You're so good but it can't be true
You got a love of your own
I can't ask to be forgiven anymore
It's
I wouldn't even be that mad (Max!)
Vice tax with my lab rats
Too many pills
Been chilling with the transplant
Too many thrills
We do the shit
see that the beast is a prequel
You should take note, don’t care if you paid your straight broke
Good man badman I could play both
Brown kid nice
Wake up baby, wake up and listen good
O'Malley's in the alley and the tax man's under the hood
Forget your suitcase, no time to pack
Ain't takin'
that bread nigga (know what I'm talkin' bout)
All these years I've been lied to, I'm finna tax the game
And these niggas who tell me I didn't have
Yeah, I'm feeling like Jay-Z Annotateon Reasonable Doubt
My first debut album probably be my last, it's all good though
Us COB boys we out here,
of someone's money who pays tax and has a life
While these black bitches stomachs stay fat with parasites
And they have to have a pipe to relax on average
for burnin' your back curvature
Certain it converted good person into a murderer
Live in Hell's Kitchen and shittin' upon the furniture
Sermons that
own
this crazy mind
Has not forgotten
And in good time
The tax man collects his dues
I can taste the sweat
Dripping off of your brow
Would you forgive
this golden touch
Like Eve, nigga top notch (Snass uh!)
Too good to be doomed
To be at this level (I'm finally here)
It doesn't take blunts (Uh!)
It's
package that was filled to the rim
Got a bitch out there that's good for hustle and sin
Checking in, saying 'baby what you need?'
I know this baller just
around
(Sho)
Come take a trip to the hood
Everybody knows I'm up to no good
Tryin to make them licks so I can pay them woods
Don't live my life
got nothin' on my feet anyway
Every now and then I save up my money, nough for a good hot bath
And once in a while I'll sit back and remember what it
absurd
Your selfish greed
Material goods mislead us
The rich will tax the poor
We bite the hands that feed us
And ask for more
It's tearing you up
When
the pressure, what?
I don't feel the pressure, yeah
Nigga, I'm building a life that I'll love
Leave me alone, bitch
I'm fine, bitch
I'm good
I got money
or your income tax?
Can you suck it on your knees?
Once I bust, I gotta leave
All these foreigns, ain't no keys
Sippin' drank, ain't no teas
Smokin' good
the life we chose
Niggas sleep on good girls, wife these hoes
I've never been around these rappers
And ain't had my burner
Can't style on me bitch, your
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