Lyrics:
and in fun
Or hear the long horn that your toner does play
I'll go home to my den by the clear light of day.”
You may blame ol' MacMahon for killing
bone and a white tee
Got a twelve-pack of that real talk and I'm drunk, tell 'em, "Come find me"
Draped up, dripped out, covered in the blood
Man, I
after game it's all really the same
Gain a lot of cash to go dance in the club
So let the boy get some digits
Holler I'm happy it's on 2 hours that's app
on the corner I aint gettin on no buses/
Bitch I make plays bitch I ball like I'm at the Ruckers/
Pull up wit da coochie man papi/
That's my daddy cutlass/
I done
we the same
Boy I ain’t Nothin’ Like You
Ohh no no, that just ain’t true
So don’t compare me to ya
Ay you talk like we the same
Boy I ain’t Nothin’
many bitches got wet off this jet
All of these rappers behind me spills
Please don't play that boy it makes me ew
Time running out so you running
for this man overflows to his fans
It's time I educate these idiots
The best that I can
They're so amused by his abuse of rap music
I'll have to craft
and it's true, you're just one
Of a million people listening that will end up not listening,
Your years start passing by and it's all white Christmases
That you boogie to the sounds of the drums
Stimulated by the sound of my voice, yea ya ready to cum
dumb-do-dumb, and all that crap
Bring on any rhyme
unimpressed by my Ferrari
(Vroom) her attitude'll sting
I mean this bitch is Waspy (Haha)
Takin' it back to the days I
Was emailin' blogs my own music, man
I don't ever wanna hear that Esco acting Hollywood
I just chill, cause if you could do me dirty, you probably would
I be chilling with the white
I wanta tell you a story 'bout the Dooright Family. That soul singing gospel group from the hills of Tennessee. They travel in a silver eagle with
I'm hot as f*vk off the flows
You know that your B*tch calling me up on my Phone.
I was Made by the mess
Play with the drip it got slippery splash
I
off, bitches better beware
Glitter gold, white patron, quite the debonair
Plenty of boys like you in town
Plenty of gold I pay by the ounce
Loves
how come you act that
Look, I know I'm white and didn't grow up in the ghetto
Ya'll are puppets to the system so I guess I'll play Gepetto
Pull
the most scariest
Punks in my way, tryin to see how I play
I know they eat more rhymes than horses eat hay
But I keep my cool cause see like, that's my image
Music)
You know this bad bitches they want the, they want the, they want the
Yeah I'm talking gun play, yeah I'm walking too
Yeah that nigga ratted,
Under the branches, con-vertibles fly by
The sky..
[Pharoahe Monch]
..blue, fields green
Paints a picture that creates a scene
of the destiny that
put it on the gang
Bitch I’ll put it on these white kids screamin Sosa like bang bang
Trappin out the suburbs
Imma hot boy call it summer
Run a bag then
's right)
Gunman, fam, I don't play games
(That's right)
Badman, now I'm out on a rage (yeah)
I roll out then lock off the rave
When I ride no phone
(No
style
The kinda jam that used to make you smile
The kinda thang that made ya mama go wild
Third great white boy - 24 mile
Keep it squeaky clean mop & glo
TyReezy you make what I call swag music man
That's just something I want to play with the top down
Going down you know the 101 in LA or the 405
of the police (I love myself)
Uh, illuminated by the hand of God, boy, don't seem shy (I love myself)
One day at a time, huh
They wanna say it's a war
everywhere dawg
If it ain't music, all this money, I don't play at all
And she ain't either, so that mean she doesn't weigh it all
Now we can both post
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