Lyrics:
dawg
Won't shake ya hand
Won't give you love
I canceled it all
He been on coke for 10 years
He in the junkie yard
You showing niggas love
Dey start
Tell it all
Bet you won't, Bet you ain't
We got a bond to the bone
Till i K.I.A.
I got a side
They don't know
Take it to da grave yard, But I be glad
anything at all
Now Ali's got a dog
In the front yard
God is smiling down on us
Ali's got a dog
She's in the front yard
Everything is looking up
John is
His twitching hand is mine to hold
In the other a dozen marigolds
As we sneak into the factory square
To bow our heads in rushed, hushed prayer
In
spillin’
Callin’ on from the yard on FaceTime
Communicatin’ but it look like gang signs
Talk your broad into givin’ me some FaceTime
We ain’t
Square, they said son you a millionaire
And my son a millionaire
Snakes cut no grass so I gas brown drink
Large bank in my LK tank
Fucked around
yard fence in the back
Freak round the side with a feline hat
That's rippin'
Rip This
Rolling with a new song kicking my beats
With my girl by
before sex.
A house full of hos know what's the ingredient;
Spaghetti plus her monthly flow.
They know they making it hard on the yard.
Fuck Chris
Me and the little woman
Were doing lines of coke
Behind the counter in the comic book store
And the bells in the yard were ringing
And the bells
square feet makes an acre
Big ass yard not too close to your neighbor
Twenty sheets, twenty staples in a stapler
Three to every five human beings is
the pilgrimage from the Deep South to our Mecca
The Southside
Yeah, from behind the burglar bars of my mama's back yard
I watched as passing cars stopped
I'll be, in the Nawf I'll die
I ain't with the facade
In my grand-daddy house, but he moved out
And I'll forever reside
Play sticks in the yard
to the Centennial state!
[Chorus]
Some people think our state is square,
They're wrong just wait and see,
I walk a mile high,
Colorado's right for me.
Well
Square peg round hole isn't that what you said
Learn to work the saw and then cut off the edge
Lace up your boots and punch your card
Take your
A house full of hoes now what's the ingredient
Spaghetty plus her monthly flow
They know they making it hard on the yard
Fuck Chris Darden, fuck Marcia
the ingredient
Spaghetty plus her monthly flow
They know they making it hard on the yard
Fuck Chris Darden, fuck Marsha Clark
Taking us when we're in
And if you want it I'll be catching up
Can't see me yet like a
Present that needs wrapping up
Had enough nar I've been killing lyrics
When I'm in the yard
flipping, I bought it
When I came through in that foreign
Only fuck with them bad bitches
Them square bitches be boring
She need five stacks on that hair
bitch, I got it
I got a few Maseratis
Dope in my new Maserati
That's a whole 'lotta new money
Stash it, it's hotter than hell
Movin' them squares in for
They line the wailing wall.
The masses fill up Saint Peter's square.
Confessions, emotions spill out of desperate prayer.
I know they're not
the mail and all paper towels
I'm on the kitchen walls, I may paint the house
It could breach the yard, it's omega-bound
Game face on dour days
Y'all
thieves in the square
Hiding hands and hiding prayers
And all their mumbling
Now they left you alone
Tangled heels and tiny veery oh's
Singing something
while I'm
Listenin' to Tune-Yards
Baby put your shoes on
We gon' turn the club out
Dammit I broke my foot again
I might have to sub out
Nostalgia, Ultra,
back
You wouldn't move the yard
Yeah! Aiyyo! Touch one of mine
I'll touch one of yours
Send us to the hospital
I'll send yours to the morgue
I'm like
.jpg/300px-Yard_Act_at_Rough_Trade_(51833745502).jpg "Yard Act")
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