Lyrics:
liquor by the fucking liter
Middle fingers to my exes and friends that I’m second guessing and now it’s eveident that i ain’t never need me
And I know
James
To hell with the bitches and the so-called fame (uh-huh)
Strictly biz to hard (kid yeah) as I climb charts
Bustin ass daily as I compose like
in the land of crooks
My pops say books, i say sneaks and name buckles
Pigs say freeze boy, shit, i just chuckles
Fence alley
Walkin by them fronts
rules everything around
Life is to short time for james to move around
Ever felt the hand of a dead man yes mam
Thats why i could never be a yes man
Not
flight and the local matador gives two fingers to the girl next door.
I had a dream that James Dean was alive and well today, looking for a quiet life,
the last cookie
We're pastry, dippin' like, umm umm, le Criste
Lickin' on your finger and you lickin' your hand
That good, finish that man
Make sure
my middle finger up with a cup and a dutch split
Hand on my nuts when I'm wilin' out in public
Welcome to America
Motherfucker, welcome to America
be on ELEVATOR
But you Tupac
That's 2 shots
Friendly-fire, blue balls
Blame it on Puffy
Shit
You might as well blame it on Sonny
And it's funny
When I
1000 Hallelujahs
I hit them streets with 1000 Hallelujahs
Good samaritan….outlaw
Right hand go southpaw
My circle look weird to em
They be fearing my
give me shit, I'm still unshaken
We Boujee like Migos, more fun when illegal
Fuck being vegan, bring home the bacon
Hands shakin' while she rollin' me
'm gonna fight until I'm taking in that last breath
Accompanied by pain now, I never stay down
Book of James sound what I pray now
Look, I'm still in
the extensions of my mind, they never miss.
They're the reason why my rhymes, are always on top.
My hands are my power, I never will flop.
I've got fingers that
And I would like to play a
Little tune I just composed not so long ago
Ms. Billie Holiday
Byrd?
The music called Jazz
It's roots are in the sounds
thriller
I'm the real McCoy my name is James
Call me J 'cause that's what I like
Bite this rhyme and I'll bust ya
In the head with the mic
The smartest
funny
Is it any reason why y'all starvin'
I smell bull and by smelling force
Do I really need to beg your pardon?
My jersey say James I don't play
Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission
Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck
I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch
It's
Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission
Hold the fuck up, I'll unfasten your wig, bad luck
I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch
It's
sandpaper
So pucker up and whistle, I blast just like a pistol
and sharp like a thumbtack and kick like ninjitsu
I sling raps for hand claps and toe taps, I
with
reporters
Behind her. Alcohol in the hands of
A minor. I got you panicking like bombs, with 30 second timers.
Clear the building,
And if you're looking at my history it's never this lame
In the past hour I was reading about outlaw Jesse James
It says his hands would do this thing
up with some cinnamon
Say a Hail Mary in this lake that I'm fishing in
Hand on your dick, oops, I just slipped my finger in
Looking for a man who
Moby pemoby pemoby pemoby pe
Just gonna drop this on one of them Moby beats
Here we go
C'mon
Put your hands in the air
Alright y'all
That's not your rhyme sonny, so please let go my Eggo
"I hear voices sayin that's Erick Sermon"
Straight up, right now, I'm on a mission
Front face
don't feel, I can't feel it no more
Seems to me nowadays things have changed
I don't know if I feel the same
Yo, in the land of the unseen hand and hold
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