Lyrics:
Yeah I still roll by myself I'm by my lonely
That remind of the way my shorty throws it
Move that only, Move that only, Move that only
Yeah I still
mess around and get hit in your liver
I'm finna strike again, like a really good bowler, or a terrible pitcher
Tap dancer, how I be steppin'
419, that's
brothers full of Arm'i, mami's in Manolo
Bags by Chanel, all Louis Vuitton logos
All attracted to Hov' because they know dough
When they see him, whips be
to insane, I rain firewater
Tape recorder, can't be saved by a court order
I got my sword cross your throat you joke
We on the run with the golden guns, get
play hard
She pay the bills by herself
She get mo doe when she solo cause it pays to be by herself
She ain’t never ask for no help
Cause if it ain’t
cost you a comma
Got big ol good pussy
The type that bring drama
Hands on you knees
On your toes lemme see
That type of ass it'll get you a key
Bust
I been molded by the same Clay as Cassius baby
And I'll be the greatest even when I'm in the casket baby
Verse 1
A lot of bad decisions
A lot
probably just thinks i'm puny
Puny
Why am I so puny
Puny
Puny
Puny
Puny
Why am i so-
Puny
I really wanna be just like Steve Rogers
Injected with some
sneaky talk so keep it quiet u heard
Allota niggas be so loudly they show up like 69
But I got all these eyes on me I’m been ballin like Steve nash
was good actually
It was great!
It was wonderful!
Bravo!!
More! More! More!
We put the boom back in the boom-bap
The pre-bling rap, that Johnny Cash
eighteen I went to Hollywood,
I met Elvis and Marilyn and Johnny B. Good.
Got my guitar painted as the California sun,
My red Cadillac havin' too much fun.
the more I was appreciated by how I was raised
Shoutout to T
I got some shit I be wanna' say but I can't even say it
Rest in peace to Black Just
Riding through Jamaica, Queens in his black truck
Timbs was 40 below, waves to the side of his dome
Definition of good
missing
I strengthen my intuition
By Contemplating decisions
In the cut like incision
Wit my niggas We be chillin
Riding wit no ceiling in a 92 Cabrio
You
the thoughts I think
I need a double of the stuff that makes a man go blind
Because I think I've seen enough to last a whole lifetime
I'll be a good boy, keep my
life a lot harder in the future
But just hear me out here
If you knew my trauma story
Then you'd know that I had less
I had Johnny by my side
And he
put a nigga in a trance
Homies be hustling, scheming, catch them driving foreigns, lowkey take your clique to France
The clique is still clubbing by
on my behind
I’ve got Sammy and Larry and Johnny and Harry
Roll another tooter and we’ll all seem happy
Im a Bad Girl I’m a B-Bad Girl
Im a tryin’ but
the trunk
And when it's time to rock a mic I won't be no punk
I bring death to the evil and power to the people
My name ain't Steve Miller but I Fly
Broke and it's about to get cold
I slept in my hoodie, woke up on the train
I wanna rob everybody I know
The thoughts of a menace
I ain't been good in
and slurp me good
Big pimpin', my money good
Big crippin', it's understand
I be thumbing through them bands
I do shit you wish you could
You wanna do
Cast our seed and stupidly think we'll never reap
But it all comes back in full circle
And when it does it ain't goin' be funny, no Steve Urkel
That's
crackers (word)
His wife and kids good because of that, that's what matters
Rappers be dyin' and their families don't know who own they masters (crazy)
trust
Love not lust, good things can't be rushed
I'ma keep my head up, let my karma be plushed
Watch me as you analyze my style imitate my ways
For days
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