Lyrics:
Clearport jet shit, big dog status, yeah
Twenty rings, twenty chains, big dog status, yeah (it's Philthy, nigga)
Big dog status, yeah, big dog status, yeah
the show
Then you sent me mad beats
And I was like, yo
What am I gonna do with a fuckin' CD of beats, nigga?
It's twenty, it mighta been twenty, sixteen,
twenty cents
So your lights won't get cut off
Ya soggy breasts, cow stomachs
Yo, take them baby GAP shirts off too
You just mad 'cause Payless ran out
twenty cents
So your lights won't get cut off
Ya soggy breasts, cow stomachs
Yo, take them baby GAP shirts off too
You just mad 'cause Payless ran out
talk of mental
Illness on the album at one
Point in the track "Sunday, " you and
Frank Ocean rap in unison
"What good is West Coast weather if you're
again
I zoom right by ya
We zoomin' Matchbox 20 we boomin'
Bamboozled made your head spin
Hooked on to my rhymes
Got you locked
Girls with the clean spot
thirty-eight by twenty-nines
And two dicks got these shits looking hella tight
I pop tags in morning, I pop the bands at night
VBS on neck and wrist man I'm
you rock will
Not make the swelling go down
Try settlin' down, we strapped
Mad chrome to grip
Last cat that had a bone to
Pick is a skeleton now
This
outselling you
By 29 I had three albums that had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I don't really do
Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin' food
But
should reason with her before she gets mad
Or maybe my nigga you should slap that bitch
If not then you need to snatch that bitch
By the thought and let
Daddy Rae
Represent (represent)
Magic Mike
Yo, I represent, I represent
I represent 10 albums at twenty seven years old
Millions of copies sold
Island
To shows at the garden
Automatic startin' in the drop got
Your bitch pussy fartin
My album about to drop in 7 days
But I still poke a rapper
up
A brand new cut for the Hammer to burn up
Suckers gettin' mad 'cause over 20 million sold
And now they try to diss 'cause they can't get gold
I was
at the mean but you're blinded by the Iris
Simile or imagery and when I get all mad I become villainy
I'm mad at the industry, what?
I'm more mad at myself than
need a statue
Yeah, I said it, who did it like me?
Who want the dice? Nigga bet it
Twenty-plus years, I ain't even gotta sell it
I ain't even got
And that's why I had to make this
Twenty-minute rap song
I'm 'bout to one take it
I just made my first album
Full of songs from the depths of my heart
out
The whole country by Khaled to rap on BET
Guess he saw me as the best man
619 to 858 to 760 I'm reppin'
San Diego to all you foreign
Daygo's what we
Boss is bitching i'm scarring my tongue
Under this corona mask mad cause I keep biting
Cause I need every bit of this fake fucking green shit
So get your egg crashed, by my Hellz Wind Staff
While the feature broadcast is splashed to tell the news
Like Katie Chung, how the bullet collapsed
We straight
Extra, extra read all about it
The Legit Ballers came out with with an unbelievable album
Fuck a truce put the side on the news
Got
all this bullshit
Mad as fuck, a nigga had enough
From jump street, saw my father murder massacre slain
One shot took half of his brain, I recapture
all this bullshit
Mad as fuck, a nigga had enough
From jump street, saw my father murder massacre slain
One shot took half of his brain, I recapture
Happy holidays
Let me come here and talk to you
I gotta stop sayin' I'm not doin' this shit no more knowin' I'm cappin'
(Great John on the beat by
wanted him to die
I just smoke
I hated him so bad
And the wildest of dreams can come true
How long will I pay for my mistakes
I die
I'm going mad
I die
How
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