Lyrics:
Ten-a-keys, every muhfuckin' state
When we touch down
(Go right from the plane to the Range)
When we touch down
(On a private plane, gettin' brains, 'til
markers baby I'm blackin
Too old attachment
Started getting stagnant
This my comeback
It's a boomerang
She left me she came back
It's a boomerang
I'm
the weekend programmin' fat tracks at Camp Cristal
Home on the range, rebel with a pen
Writin critically acclaimed scriptures that do you in
Mista' Meth,
[Chorus:]
And how did we get so lucky?
Targets on the rifle range
Who makes the call and who gets to choose?
Who gets to win and who gets to lose?
It's
Mississippi tenekeys, every mothafuckin' state
When we touchdown
Go right from the plane to the range
When we touchdown
On the private plane gettin' brain,
a marker
You don't want these
Problems bitch cause they
Can happen often
It ain't looking right
We rearrange it (Range it)
Catch us on a night when
Shit get
abandon ship
[Rampage the Last Boy Scout & Busta Rhymes]
I 8Off like the Assassin, now I'm blastin I'm takin over
Stick you for your blue Range Rover
a mountain range
Fever is hot from this damn white line
And each mile marker's taking way too much time
I'm a radio flyer I got two hundred miles to go
'Till
abandon ship
[Rampage the Last Boy Scout & Busta Rhymes]
I 8Off like the Assassin, now I'm blastin I'm takin over
Stick you for your blue Range Rover
enough"
[Killah Priest]
I hold my marker, like Huey P. held his revolver
Plottin' vengeance, since them bullet shells, sailed through Martin
I'm
profound, did it all on my own now
Now I got me my own sound, treat this shit like a showdown, Yeah
Aye, in my ways
Did my thing
For 5 chains
Whippin' Range
While we pushin beats
Push a button
Then we hit release
Ain't it something
Ihope it sets us free
Jeez
Sum locals with vocals hittin range
No extras
smokin' on cabbage
Close range, damn i just fucked up my fabric
I'm turnin shit up and these niggas can't tame me
I gave yo bitch back so you really should
tattoos are the shit
Add a big encrypted markings
And your tattoos look like shit
A blind kid scribbled with marker
Burn rubber - Parking lot
Tires
from here i’m a martian
Body covered in marker
Dreads hang like a rasta
But my brother he a rasta
Smokin on the finest ganja
Same color as willy wonka
to build a wall; a beautiful rocky range
And as it sits pretty in the distance
I've been feeling pretty petty and evicted
From the path that I thought was
than that marker talk
Twitter fingers whatever you want to consider it
This is just talk
But I can react
So act accordingly
I order stop that
What's
within range
Canned goods in the pantry
Vampires with their fangs
Sucking up blood
Chewing their cud
Swiping the crud past
The markers that can make it
coochie
Then it better be the tightest
Driving range aim
Draco swinging like a Titleist
Already know that someone
From the big leagues finna bite
a crew with no obligation
Waiting patiently for my album
Old shit with new attitude
This penmanship is mad at you like fire starter words and mile markers
that my heart hurts
Can't erase the past, yo there's permanent markers
No Google, the pursuit of happiness, now that's a hard search!
Hi, my name is
might kick it back
But don’t think I’m staying, ‘cause I am not sane, I might go to mars when it rain
I copped me a range, now we go insane, now me
fastened… travel caverns of expansive space…emancipation of the masses, scribbled in magic marker… all on your face…classic case of drastic change, in a manic
Gravel roads and round bales
Burn pits and county jails
Archery ranges and tractor lots
Wrap around porches and flower pots
American dreams
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