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bought her a chain I just tyb'd your girl, boy I know that you in pain She always said that I'm a cheater Saying that I'm gon' leave her If she ask me for
I say big guns big drums Boy you better run Flexed up Yea my pockets thicker than a hunny bun Say I won't let shots all up on the party Say I won't
Big boy talk I don't care about age I bring fear to the ones I face Eyes on me but they can't keep pace Your boy got speed but he still can't race
about trapping with Them hundred-round drummers, boy? Counting bread and killing instrumentals Made by Drumma Boy (Paper Route Empire) I'm doing too much
When I pull up on the block like skrt Get it by the pound, so it's not light work When I pull up on the block Pull up- pull up on the block When I
doesn't know what he's talking and you're listening to him.. Hey... I know... go do your chores.. That school was built by my grandfather .... Also, our son
I'm ridin' on the block again Watchin' for the cops and them Boys tryna block us in We can get it poppin' then I said we can get it poppin' then Got
back boy cause we sure ain't going home And by the time they want us in hell we'll be long gone I see the light on the horizon, and the air is getting
Hahahahaha... T'cha t'cha, that boy is a t'cha I want you all to understand I'm down with BDP I got so many styles, but I'm not an MC I am a teacher
I found him by the railroad track this morning I could see that he was nearly dead I knelt down beside him and I listened Just to hear the words
gliding, I'm the creator, Tyler My young boy come back to The block with his rambo Yuck, of course it's a niner The count was violent and of Course it's
mane, I pour it by the four (yeah, yeah) When they least expect it when you kick in a door Every time I fuck her, she beg me to grab her by her throat
hoolum atmosphere Fo rappin' about the clothes you wear, I represent welfare No happy-happy, joy-joy It's these boys, Runnin' from decoys, pimpin'
on that South Lee, with Big Mix and my boy Lil' Heat Where's the drank I'm runnin' low, Cabbage Head told me it's a drought But not to worry dough never
proper little mystic about your ways About your style that got your boy dazed Now I'm diggin' in my game so I can see where you at And I'm pushin' all
the wrong spot Let the beat drop Dre beats for the beep-bop Good weed, I'm on a tree clock I don't see hate Make ways for the young boys Gettin' rich it's
(question) Boy I know just what you like So If you want, I got it, I got it every day Be your lover, your friend You’ll find it all there babe Stay by your
screen Quickdraw, marksman shoot it, 45 Rugers Big Bazookas Surrounded by some killers, looters Scammers and some shooters I see tie-dye, Murakami in my
Shakin' the hard white, black block Restin' on me, I Pete Rock the CL Smooth got revenue with his Beastie Boys They call him the Rock Steady Crew We ride
fuck wit me, but she ain't fuckin me It's like I'm a sissy by making everyone run from me And I sit and watch them leave 'Cause I wanna see y'all
[3] - I'm going to vauco in my black seville I follow two my behind a truck with half a mil I make my first stop at my homeboys ranch I ask him
Get caught in that trap for taking that cheese But he say he ballin yea bitch I know you ain't got it I can tell by that hole in yo pocket Gone give
I been trippin slippin Through all different dimensions Mind force my god Get up out my mentions Climbing for the top boy im ascending Kinship I
guided you One by one, you recovered your emotions And became self aware This is my gift to you, boy The question of life have found its answer If you can
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