Lyrics:
the old Chuck Berry's - 78's and all
I sat by my record player
Playing every note they played
I watched them all on TV
Making every move they made
your mouth I mean
I'm making these goals and at the top of my list
Get the number one record, yea that Billboard is lit
Put the time in, put the work
the barge go by He comin' to talk to you / Norman Who is Senator Pullman anyway Why do I have to signal the barge? / Iris Welcome to the Caribbean, put
(what?)
Yeah, that boy was a winner (winner)
Never known as a singer
But this might be a single (facts)
Always bet on your homies
Then go buy
This for anyone with ambition, calling anybody that'll listen
I'm wishing all your dreams come true, 'cause mine did
And yeah, you know I had to put
will be waiting by the phone
And if you have to go away
I'll put your records on
Pretend you're still at home
Now that I'm older
I sit at home
or fo'
Years, not months, have mercy on my soul
Threw on the wife-beater
Put a fitted on my skull
Took a long ass piss
Grabbed my shades and hit the door
I
Family comes with love
You can record that, you can record that
Put in your Christmas frame
So you'll recall when, so you'll recall when
Everyone is old
back in the house and your apartment
So open your door, by the way, so we can start it
Test the monitors and call this mic
'Cause the way we feel,
thing as a bail
Nor a saved by the bell
When the heat is for real
Better throw in the towel
Before you empty your bowels
And be burned in your own waste
screaming in hell
No such thing as a bail
Nor a saved by the bell
When the heat is for real
Better throw in the towel
Before you empty your bowels
And be
and you'll get smoked and I hope
That your fans understand when you talk about sprayin' me
The same records that you makin' is payin' me
Motherfuck Dre,
and you'll get smoked and I hope
That your fans understand when you talk about sprayin' me
The same records that you makin' is payin' me
Motherfuck Dre,
said I could eat it for breakfast
Eat raw lead then I put it on record
Cut niggas up sector by sector, next to her dead first cousin and nephew
Next
I'm gonna put my Grateful Dead record on
Listen to Box of Rain
Remember the times I did it with you
When you used to feel the same
Gonna put my Steve
deposit 'fore I end
Up in a robbery, abilities, humility
I feel like an anomaly
Sell more records than Spose (you won't)
Have fans other than your bros (you
Last year's dis didn't amount to much
You swung first, now here's the counterpunch
The only way you get attention on your records
Is cause you talk
we know what's goin happen
Put you on spread
And give you some action
Your hand on my head
I control your reaction
How many climaxes, Lose track by
ask me, they ask me, they ask me, I tell them
(Here's to Roc-A-Fella)
Raise your glasses, your glasses, your glasses to the sky and
(Here's
bust out your pencil
You can do it on your own
Stop thinking that these labels is the
Ones that put you on let's change the topic
Who's your favorite
honor roll, but honored up in them streets
'Cause I'm a Linwood nigga, them young niggas hit ya
Put a stack on your head, you'll bleed a lake on Grand
gangsta shit
I say No Limit loud, cause we ain't scared of nobody
Organized by P or should I say, John Gotti
Real niggas, put ya guns up if ya feel me
But
determined to do
And I know because I know he, he is, who he is, we taught him
Hey, whatever you do, put your full self into it
(Do it your best, be one
From yo' car to a crap game, no one rolls wit' you
One of Mini-Me's shoes got more sole than you
So by the time you figure out why your record ain't
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