Lyrics:
to his grandmother (cray)
I get it, I see why she let August Alsina fuck her (okay)
Either way she got Will Smith lookin' like a sucker (she do)
He
at will
Will I kill you
Fly will peel you off the map that's all so real
Don't you mothasuckas often wonder what to call this shit
Mmm, call it mystic
and gather your friends
Steady be hating
My new shit gon' slap hard like Will Smith and Chris out at public events
Legend like Arthur
I set shit in stone
San-jaya, now who wanna try us
That four-five will spit
I'll slump you in the driver seat
And make you really ghost ride the whip
It's real talk, shade
the three
You niggas really not fuckin' with prayer
That's what's gon' leave his ass dead
I let nothing catch it, now that shit's too bad
I might be
told ya
Yeah, I do it real big by a coat check
With no bling-bling around my neck, yup
Redman and Sermon, with two icons
Nigga, I got a gut, fuck pythons
Geoffrey
Not Prince or Will Smith, but I know I'm the freshest
I'm on the grind like I'm Tony (hawk)
I got my mind on my money (the gwalla)
No apple, but
not confess
Smart, dumb, thick, sweet heart chick
She’s a legend she’s a myth
All treat no tricks
Real Hair no wigs
“Mr. & Mrs. Smith”
J.A.M.3.L
Ten million dollars later I'm a blessing, nigga
How a nigga rich but still stressing, nigga
Glock-40, Smith & Wesson, nigga
Streets will never ever
American boys
Named Perry and Dick
Who will spin the thread of life
And who will determine the span
And who will cut the thread?
Knife in hand
Perry Smith
then it will be
I've been getting high by my lonely
Everybody copes in their own way
I can't take your word you gotta show me
Y'all ain't really real
six mops
I catch mine and trap it for real
I don't diss ops bitch, what I got in store
Ain't at a gift shop
Y'all love to critique my raps
"I don't be
want deep leave 'em behind
Aiyo
1-2-3-4-5-6-7
Blaze the hot trizack
Shine like heaven
7-6-5-4-3-2-1
Come on Mr. Smith come get some
My
Vernicia Woodard
Wally Flex
Yvette Smith
Zamiel Crawford
And all the other victims lost to the real pandemic known to the world
As Police Brutality in
of the few of the real niggas left
Three of the few of the real niggas left
We three of the few of the real niggas left
We three of the few of the real niggas
the real Slim Shady please stand up
Please stand up, please stand up?
Will Smith don't gotta cuss in his raps to sell records
Well, I do, so fuck him
and Kelsey ain't do it then that bitch shot herself (haha)
Think about it, any three of them might could be the shooter
Don't take what I say personal it's
Since day 1 girl my love for you will never change
Stand tall by my side and we will never break
FaceTime every night is what keep me awake
Girl you
Bring the noise, bring the noise
Will Smith, Martin Lawrence
Bad boys, boys
Bring the noise, bring the noise
Will Smith, Martin Lawrence
Bad boys,
interested
Now, many people didn't believe the Prophet Joseph Smith
They thought he'd made up this Part Three that was buried by a tree, on the hill in his
I used to be at Mars with Flex; now everything changed
He was the only one in the room DJing - empty room
He was cool back then, used to talk
the Palladium, all eyes on my presence
Poppin the Crist', sportin the chick straight out of Essence
Word up, patch thug, three quarter front Polo jiggy
Be like
Brooklyn is me
Matter of fact, the East coast, fuck, took it from me
Fourth album still Jay still spittin' that real shit
Volume Three still sold more
the East coast fuck took it from me
Fourth album still Jay still spittin that real shit
Volume 3 still sold more records than Will Smith
Can't call this
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