Lyrics:
Paintings by Vincent Van Gogh
Then I'll visit St. Tropez
For 'bout sixty days
Money got tall six feet eight
Hmm
Yea
Lebron james
But you can't lean on me
Why
then you know you the blame
Why would I go back to darkness if you pulled me out the flames
I choose authority over power, that's in Yesusa name.
Ain't
Ayy
Big Goddo Flaco
Just know I got it on me when it's time to slide
Last rapper to diss me, went missing, shout out to the mob
I keep it on me
Imma shoot it like Bron James
Getting to the bag, they dont even know my name
Rookie of the year, I can see it through my frames
Don't ask me how I got
over
Open your door, love me jeje
No be mistake, na trade by barter
Oya take it inside, don't take it outside
Basket
Oya take it outside, don't take it
Like how its howard or its hampton
I done raised the stakes
Staked it out
You probably catch me camping
They be blinded by my light
I'll be proud to say
It's not a possibility you could ever survive
That's just the logicality of the Devil inside
Any ounce of goodness in me was never revived
Don't try to play me or you'd better play bingo
Or Monopoly, by Milton Bradley
I had to school another brother, but had he
Only took a second, and checked
You're my heart desire
Oya dance for mama
Oya dance for papa
Dance ya dance ya
Mr Flavour pon the dance and John by the piano
Moga G James Born
to the dance club
All these girls looking at me like I'm handsome
One touches my cheek like I'm a grandson
While the other three are pulling out their cameras
covered
I need you to answer one question for me
The answer is yes, then I get you out of here pending trial
And James St. Patrick goes to jail
No
dutch (na na na na na na)
By booty bounce like Beyoncé
Get up, get down like James Brown
Let's try to do what the song says
Same us new sound
SOD
he's James Dean
They try to get me in the middle of a conga line
Sorry grandma, isn't it way past your bedtime?
I dance by myself, and teach them how
music, he was into punk
Told me all the bands that I liked were junk
I said I'd never heard the songs the sex pistols sang
I laughed back at him
music, he was into punk
Told me all the bands that I liked were junk
I said I'd never heard the songs the sex pistols sang
I laughed back at him
you gave a thought
- To where you at, how you doin man?, better check your head before my pulse knocks you down like James Brown
(chorus)
- This is
[Music: James Gulotta, Tim Kelly, Chris Lykins, Rick Skowron]
[Lyrics: Brian Zimmerman]
[Solo: Rick]
Destruction is my goal
Care for no one at all
'cause Jenny Lo across the road gets to hang wit' us fellas
Makin' money makin' money makin' money
Don't wake me up fool I'm busy with all these hunnies
import snort
Drink malt by the court did all sorts of things
Which lead me to hypersonic moka brought me on it
Sing up the slack I'm to forward to turn
import snort
Drink malt by the court did all sorts of things
Which lead me to hypersonic moka brought me on it
Sing up the slack I'm to forward to turn
career
Frame by frame
"See, this is where his walnut
Got cracked for talkin’ smack
Got splattered all on his wifey’s
Lap and pillbox hat" the kid pops back
a death grip
But the purse ain't what I want so don't trip
I know she saw me when she started walking faster
I grabbed the glock and I was just about
you're being me who's being you?
I'm hot like Patra, Doggystyle on all fours
End your career like Christopher Williams did Al B. Sures
Mass hysteria,
only
It will be done by one who has shared this
Meal with me.
With a meaningful look Peter urged John to find out
Who it was
When John asked him
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