Lyrics:
We, we don't give a fuck about you
Your homey on the block can get it too
Y'all lil' motherfuckers ain't gang-ster, save your
Crew, before I put
the mic, we need some people by the door
If you love God, some things might have to change
The people and the Pastors might all get re-arranged
God builds
mo' papers off
Probation I'm a cold case
He gon' sho hate it
When I throw a bomb like Troy Aikman
To do damage you walk in a bunch huh?
When you
all for myself (yea)
Fuck anybody that had ya (yea)
Getting this shit by my lonely (yea)
I don't need a mother fucking FAFSA (yea)
The way that she
Girls shakin that ass boy (Yeah)
Shakin that ass all in yo lil young face nigga
(Yall know it's on)
Them girls say, "Troy bring another
Pop That
I'm paying ties?
Why the pastor got a Cadillac?
It's new and it's clean
Don't tell me he ain't buy that with the money from me
Fuck a law
Fuck a church
My pastor said there's power in the word of mouth
If I have a show that shit is sold out
And I'll be the greatest of all fucking time
If that shit
and clap at the same time,
You can judge from my hang time that you know that it’s game time.
Hook:
“Bring It All Day” Written by Troy Harrington, Brian
at
why'all hear that Nolia Clap
why'all hear that Nolia Clap
[Verse 1]
I'm in the Calio, You know I'm headed front of town
By Chaotic and the Real One
at
why'all hear that Nolia Clap
why'all hear that Nolia Clap
[Verse 1]
I'm in the Calio, You know I'm headed front of town
By Chaotic and the Real One
'm a Golden Boy, music hidin' inside like Troy
Bein' dubbed the Golden Boy is somethin' I enjoy
Although I could never do it without my fans 'cause that's (the
'm rather unavoidable
Plus that means attainable, all my niggaz that's got cable
Rope chains, gold chains, the victory explainable
MC's in my path I will
Kan'
He all the same
Flow like Lil Wayne on Tha Carter
And I'm signed to the Carter faculty
'Cause the Roc is in back of me
Actually, that look like
Fuck you and yo bass line
Thats what I feel bout it
Look man, you know what
Fuck you and yo bass line
Look man, you know what
Fuck you and yo bass line
my salad like his name Romaine
And when we done, I make him buy me Balmain
I'm on some dumb shit
By the way, what he say? (Ooh, hey)
He can tell
she copped me a piece
Wack-ass caliber, nickel-plated with the silencer
What? She don't know I like my guns pretty?
Like my boy Castor Troy with
Were taken I choose
To believe it I think it's an angel
Take a good look
Many, including their pastor said that they
Believe this image captured by
Years later, Troy growing up fine
I'm on a mission
The Lord moved me far from that town so i'd be different
Now I look in the mirror
And yea I see my dad
sometimes the king misses his own throne
Pastor Troy and I miss home, A-T-L
Atlanta, I'll rep for you, I'll always be there for you
Atlanta, I'll rep for
think God a trapper
Hearing all the lies coming from the pastor
Yep
Saint Label
Straight off the scale with it
I got yo bitch spreading her legs like long
money, family
And a handful of trust
I'm too focused I'm too focused
And my nigga that ain't enough
So I switched the celly up
Fuck all that keeping up in
Hydro indo (buddha!)
Hah cocoa yo ya ya yo!
I need some brown weed (lady) all day
I need some brown weed (jenny)
I need some cut (lady lady)
2]
Wuz up, big mouth, big talk, big game
I ain't pastor troy but it ain't no play it ain't no game
wit a nigga like you runnin around town actin
used to come by strapped
Nice off a L cause we stayed like that
Sometimes I used to miss my moms
Gunshots in the twilight, people fightin' every night
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