Lyrics:
spittin that shit ever since coke crushed
You can hear me on your T.V. and radio at the same time
I never ever say the same rhyme, it's Tony 2 times
it
Over
No we just start
Closer
Now I cyar part ways
With the five cent ten cent
Straight dollar wine
Head top she flip up like
Straight dollar coin
your housing
Yeah, it's raw lingo when the king go
Dutch link, nuts big as shit
Taste the rainbow (Ayo, yo)
Put your paper up and threaten shit
Or tie
to get popped by a cop?
Who the next n**** in the hood to get shot?
I hope it ain't me, so I'm strapped up in bulletproof
N**** on my stomach see -
to the studio and spit it
I tried to knock it in the game of soccer, they ain't kick it
I twist it up in the Dutch Master lit it and hit it
My girl won't lick it
[Radio DJ]
Hey DJ (I'm your radio)
It's a brand new day
What you say baby?
You want to get down?
You gotta get up
And I'm your wake-up man
kombucha
Just COLTRANE
5th Ave
Blow
Sax on the block
A great day in Harlem
Well maybe that's the problem
We living for today
We ain't thinkin bout tomorrow
Codeine
COBAIN
Cold brew
No kombucha
Just COLTRANE
5th Ave
Blow
Sax on the block
A great day in Harlem
Well maybe that's the problem
We living for today
We
past days, your actions have brought shame, to the family name.
V4.1Fanny
Is that what you think, Ezra “shame""...the way I see it, I’d call it “fame.”
I just wanted to have a bite with her, or something
Didn't go get up on that show to fight with her, or nothing
It was Keyshia Cole, Eric Benã,
to my nigga dre 10 million and counting
Who me
The Nigga that mixed it mastered it edit it wrote it spit it your kids spoke it
M3
Enoughs enough
You
game, heroin in
The vain, fuck'n with there brains. Who the next nigga
Ta get popped by a cop? Who the next in the hood 2
Get shot? I hope it ain't me,
The day is here
What up baby
Hustle Town
Two double 0 one hun
And it just don't quit
No it just don't stop
Chunk duce
Blow truce
The day is here
What up baby
Hustle Town
Two double 0 one hun
And it just don't quit
No it just don't stop
Chunk duce
Blow truce
thousand in there (G-Unit radio)
When the drama get to poppin'
It don't bother me, it don't bother me
(50 cent) when the shell casings get to
Droppin' it
daddy's out of town so uhh, you can fuck around
It's okay to check in that Motel 6
$59.95, not a cent more for that dirty-ass hoe
Yeah, stop by that
Yo, yo, I know niggas wit honor and will
That'll still crush the blow up and then pass they mama the bill
So I'ma always be able to burn my strip
alright
But of course I wasn't about to just give up my son
So I did exactly what I thought should be done
I worked my ass off and I saved every cent
I sold
Blast Off
Hold up wait wait wait
Blast off
Take off
Blow it up
Yeah baby
Deep south boom bap by DJ Green
Let's go crazy
Blast off
Take off
Blow it
the presentation to the Audience
It is now up to the audience to appreciate the finished work
To apply seasoning without tasting is an insult by an uncultured,
pretty good some play so bad it hurts
We pick up their golf balls that fly over the fence
We shine 'em up a little bit and sell 'em back for fifty cents
24/7 I've been working overtime
Ain't got that much to show for it
Still had to sell my soul for it, just to get by
24/7 I've been working overtime
We wasn't supposed to make it past twenty-five
Joke's on you, we still alive
Throw your hands up in the sky and say
"We don't care what people say"
a knot... but I'm down to 9 cents and 9 senses tingling since 9,6 when I was 9...
So it's colorful in my head like 6ix 9ine...
Getting and giving colorful
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