Lyrics:
myself smoke and count this paper
'La bitch bent on the table
Beat 'dat 'la baby rock 'dat crattle
I'm 'tryna get to the paper get me a mansion and by me
from LA, how
‘Bout we spark this thing up
And I know
It’s down deep, girl
No need to tell me
It’s ‘bout time we both got right
On my mind all damn night
Lyrics:
1. Lookout folks there’s a big new game
For damned Republicans who know no shame
All the world’s troubles are caused by Libs
Says Fox News
(Verse 1 = YD)
I'm wit my homie from the west, down south collaboration.
If you don't know, better use imagination.
It might take some time so you
never need ya
So you should leave her
It's only you
You don't need a 2 seater
Come and Salsa with me
Take her to the south side with me
Got to keep your
yo yo mi gente
Hoo yo yo yo kings south ragga
Hoo yo yo yo routman producción
Y restregando contra el piso su pie
Zapatito cochinito cambia de piecito
on the south side, shorty had her mouth wide, baby can you blame me?
Out here on da east coast, feeling like a king though, brodie can you blame me?
We can take
I been down south where shit get wicked
Big glocks aimed at your fitted
Dont gotta ask if a young nigga wit it
Know king kaii spit it
Yall niggas
Bitch told me I was fresh like a spring roll
Iced out coat you should know I like my rings gold
Bitch told me I was raw like I'm King Cole
South
said and I
Hoped that you would believe and
Rise up from the ashes, but now
You've been beaten down
By the dirty south
So, let's give a crown
Martin Luther King and Jesus Christ by the brass
I'm so glad Josie decide not to have that abortion
And put me in a can or even take me to the ocean
Seen
I'm hit
Not by no bullet or no pellet
But the smoke from the can a beer shit
I might just be too high
Then I put my middle finger up when I'm
Desireé
You ain't no concern, I'ma wait and see what Heaven say
I got a brother by the name of Snicky Ricky Wade
He said - Bubba, real careers ain't
king, el único G con todo este style con todo este style say say Say. Entro en la pista los pongo a gritar dentro de la pista los pongo a saltar todos mis
Hold up, no you didn't bow, bow
I ain't the chick to walk behind you 'round town
Just 'cause you're packin', packin', whoop, down south
That don't
San Fran
On his way to Mud City where the thugging began
Hanging with Latin Kings til they killed his common man
After the accident, back to LA
when we high
King of a kingdom
Like Kris is all right
You do or you die
You live by the signs
I love me my family
Vivi in mind
Scarymarser
Can you move
Buzzyburke
Produce by StoopidSick
Holla at ya boy
Stupid Stupid
Flow so dumb it's stupid
Nah I ain't a silent bee
Rolling to the spot
Got like 5
seta' (wuh)
Pistolas y libras, también peseta' (yi, yi), uh
Ahora me dicen Jon Z (wuh)
Par de peso' metío' en la caleta, uh (prrr)
To' el mundo me
Ooh la la Bangladesh
Hey
See a nigga like me gonna get money till I get rich
Ride with a couple hundred G's in a biscuit
Stay down for whatever
jester, long before
But the boring kings brought upon me - snore
So this former performer was forced to retire
But now I'll certainly set
These curtains
a white man get a sun tan on South Beach
Cant out me
No doubt we the kings of the jungle of concrete
And to sell a million of it in 1 week
Still keep
look for me in you
I got drip all in this walk
I got cash, I let it walk
I done did it by myself
Earning check just by myself
I switch down
volumen 4, 5 ya es la hora
Kings south ragga suena fuerte la sonora
En el piso preparados convocados
Reunido en un solo cometido bailar hasta que cruja el
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