Lyrics:
Never break their hearts, never make them cry, come on
Strike up the band, play a song that everybody knows
If I'm not your kind, then don't tell a soul
talkin micky d's
I'm feeding her D
By the pound at that
(Pound at that)
Nigga don't envy me
I'm living life g
That's the motto man
(Yeah)
Run it up
Run it
chance I got
And he would begin to cry
Telling me the stories of his days long gone by
Well he started out in an old jazz band
Up in Chicago town
That old
The kids are ripping into sugar packets.
Townies taking off their tavern jackets.
I'm in the pews sticking bills in the basket.
Praying that
shame in my game, boy, you know I'm the shit
I get treated like a queen by every nigga I'm wit'
'Cause this pussy got power, goin' for some hours
all some killers
But look into the eyes of a ghetto child influenced by the street
Go to sleep to gunshots, wake up from the sirens of the police
See
Back by popular demand
I'm the fucking man
Focused now I'm getting the bands
Count it under hand
Fucking up the summer
I'm just
Fucking up the summer
Birds, strike with lightning again
Ichiraku, man the rhymin' a 10
Touched down, wakin' up in Japan, Fire Nation we land
On business, out Konoha for bands
wear that dress.
Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight
Lead me out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the fireflies
Girl In The Band Lyrics
Wake up in the morning
Looking a little rough
Today I don't know who I am
Today is not enough
So I go up to the mirror
Got my own place, check
Got my own plates, check
Pay my own bills, check
Kept this shit real, check
Humble brag
In my bag, I don't cap, this shit all
Prada heels, she a demon we alike
Popped a seal, exotic only weed I like
By the mill, chasing money be alright
By the field, spending bands all
and I will wear that dress
Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight
Lead me out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make
of an Audi
And if you wanna bang
Then you gotta run it by me
If you couldn't find me
You gotta hit up Chopyy
And I know that you really wanna shake hands with
of an Audi
And if you wanna bang
Then you gotta run it by me
If you couldn’t find me
You gotta hit up Chopyy
And I know that you really wanna shake hands with
Wondering how you’ve been
It must be Christmas time again
Spark up the lights, strike up the band
Fill up my glass and take my hand
I hope this night will
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
on the highways of rap
Choked up by the smoke and the charcoal
A lotta stamps and brands, we like a barcode
I'm bashin' all the media strikes to keep the media
band we played with on the bill that night, the singer Leslie, and the Marian lady who ran the bar donated some panties and dresses and make-up
all me
See the set catch rap
When I slide through throwin up a bill
And niggas wanna act like they thuggin like
We said boy please
This S to the K
get bands
Running it up with the bands
Got student loans, they just been all on my phone
I’m doing this shit on my own
And all by myself, trust me it
a lil ass
And she gone show out
Cause them hoes gone be mad
She put her face to the floor
Lift up her ass
I'm ready to strike
She done woke up that man
I'll go to Hell for him
Pay mama's bills, you know her son the G.O.a.t
When I die, just bury me up in a farm
Amber Rolls, pull up in the Amber Rolls
.jpg "Bill Gaither")
.jpg "Bill & Gloria Gaither")
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