Lyrics:
a set tape
She don't carry nothing but some dead weight
(But some dead weight)
Bring it to your door I can
Ship it to you next day
I can see through you
fish ain't that a bitch, like Ray J I gotta run which
Look at the place I'm in, I never fuck superhead Kim Kardashian
It's a disgrace to yourself, dogg
(wow) don't tell, don't tell (wow)
Le FN en cas d'blème (wow, wow) pull up gang, bordel (wow)
Dis pas d'blase dans l'phone-tél' (wow) don't tell, don't
but you be cutting dem checks
I want in on them liner notes this nigga ain't dead
Don't mind leading a rhyme cuz yo hand so tired
But I ain't no
Robby Ray on the track nigga
On god...
Nigga ain't playing no games
Killed his faith now a nigga always ducking the fade
On god...
Bitch You know my
promotion
And I can't wait to go out and hear some
[CHORUS]
Jumping music, swift d.j.'s
Smoke machines and laser rays
Look out weekend 'cuz, here I
a bar, this is hey, hey
Back up in the trunk with tha AK
Each line pack a Fabolous punch, no diss to Ray J
Nah, see I don't dab and I don't nae nae
Got
comprende, me no speak no Engle
Here, now yo' ass feelin' tingley
Now, you're doin' shit like Darryl Stingley
Don't get stung by the motherfuckin' sting ray
Violent J, Violent J, is that you?
I'm on the microphone, so what'cha wanna do?
Violent J, Violent J, is that you?
A wicked, wicked clown painted
hold no rank, don't hold no rank
Don't hold no rank
Yeah my Lamborghini owned by me
I don't rent from your mans, yeah, yeah
You know I ran it up with
tee, you fresh
Nothin' phony with us
Make the money, get the mansion, bring the homies with us (Southside Bronx)
Don't be fooled by the rocks that I
the nana like a battery
No chains on my words make you feel like you sitting by the ray
Splash in a planet full of Ashes
Dust to dawn passes I tried fasting
stayin' out the way, you can find me in them creases
It broke my heart and it killed Ray-Ray, that shit left me speechless
Know niggas who throw their life
heart and mind on a nigga
Yeah, Lambo J, I call him Jigga
Flat tummy tea, but she don't need to watch her figure
She don't need to pose for the 'Gram,
and roll shoes
Why don't you
Hang up my rock and roll shoes
Ray
Hang up my rock and roll shoes
my headphones, all I remember doing's wishing for shoes
F- them stupid Pumas, b-, it's all about them new edition Troops
You get them LL Cool J
You get them LL Cool J coolin' systems
Made that final maneuver to 8 Mile and Hoover
And somehow I saw my future is in this that's how I know my
you don't fit right
Still it all seems fine
Oké
Pauvre Biche & Ray 1000
Production d'un beat calibré
D'une track qui affiche des airs habiles de qualité
believe that you gone for real
Long Live Ray J on the M you know that we be popping steel
You think they really fucking with you but they not
But they stay
nigga
Yayo comin' out my pores, nigga
You should see me and them stars, nigga
Rich niggas don't test drive
And double M, that be the best ha (Maybach
Being drawn then erased
Fueled by a raging fear of facing my fate
But still I'm aging
Truly I'm aware it's a farce
I swear I'm aware, not that you'd care
to the west by Canal, see how we confused ourselves
It’s no gold it’s ferrous metal, if you feel so get that wealth
Basically I don’t see no difference, branded
a chance will you? If you don’t like- ah hey! I
swear, if you don’t like it we’ll fucking fire his ass. He’s out.
[K:] Who is this guy? I never…
[J:] His
you black, whether you white
I don't give a fuck nigga show me something real
Niggas out here dropping for no reason
Getting worser by the season tryna
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