Lyrics:
you something you can feel
Think I won't when I will
You ain't street you ain't real
You ain't Keith you ain't ill
Lick shots in your grill
Fuck cops
dogs big as Bruce Smith to block me
It's Blake on the grape, pouring ya juice, tickle your weight
Just might be, politely, leave your man to ache
Robinson
BACKGROUND VOCALS: Antoine Smith
HOHNER D-6 CASTLE BAR CLAVINET, HAMMOND B-3 ORGAN, PROPHET 5, OBERHEIM OBXA, ARP SOLINAS (STRING ENSEMBLE) MINIMOOG
all that good stuff it'll be allright won't it?
Hey, by the time you've got this lot in your hands, by the way, we shall have been in the studio working
yeah thought she knew this
Hit em wit a chop three times left em clueless
You can tell when I'm slidin by my music
Fuck the opps check the score boy yea
life a dirty game play chess not checcers bitch (checcers bitch)
Ion see why we be dissin we all wanna get rich (cash)
They will never try to get me ima
the whole block starin'
I will never understand this society
First they try to murder me then they lie to me
Product of a dyin' breed
All my homies tryin'
you
When we walk inside the club
They think its a war cause we pull up
Real deep with the whole crew
(Beat stop) EASY !
I dont really know why they be
on pressing on
Book of Mormon study
I'm studying the Book of Mormon every day and night
So when temptation comes a knocking I know I will be alright yeah
they're pursuing
But it's my stomping ground where herds get blown down
Think I'm getting caught by beasts you's a damn clown
Check the drums of death
post traumatic
Stress disorder by design, G-O-D, I'm doing fine
The worlds cannot stop my real shine
Consciously I'm present walking fine lines
Sippin
want you for life and I'm like oh please
I already know what you be on
I rather do shit by myself than with you peons
Push to start every whip I ain't
put you on don't do me wrong (don't)
In the end, it'll be ya loss (it will)
Influenced by East New York
Pop Smoke from the Floss (Woo)
A-list rapper
break apart a nigga
But the dog is bigger, under stress
So unless you wanna get blessed to the chest
With slugs from the Smith & Wess, rest
break apart a nigga
But the dog is bigger, under stress
So unless you wanna get blessed to the chest
With slugs from the Smith & Wess, rest
Bysmol
sick abysmal bitch suckin dildos instead of dicks for kicks
No time for fake bitches, just sip some orange juice with my real bitches
And I just got
he tryna snap a picture
That get back gon' be so real we gotta wrap a nigga
We just riding lurking tryna catch a rapper nigga
And if we ever said
nigga i’m chilllin
My nigga this shit been gettin to deep
Lookin for a victim every week
Real thick bitches an they really be freaks
Been havin the 513
The way we cruising down the i ten
Riding low
West Coast
West Coast
Welcome to the wild Wild West
Ima Will Smith this spit, Chris slap
Let me show you how I
OT
None of these rappers work harder than me
Working till three in the morning
I know it sounds boring
I’d rather be working than snoring
I’m asking
an active cloud if not then you out and that's why
We saw three ambient lights
Yeah they scam cheat and they lie
It was all championed by
Just one poor
Supposed to be, regulatin' in this rap era
Made one error up against the microphone terror
It takes two to tangle
I told Daz, "Don't worry," like Keith
faith from the intangible
Objects, they are exchangeable
Yet lives are irreplaceable
Real change is attainable
Verse 3
Let actions be effectual, real
the whole block starin'
I will never understand this society
First they try to murder me then they lie to me
Product of a dyin' breed
All my homies tryin'
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