Lyrics:
dead
Straight from high street, raised by the o.g.'s
Never slanged keys, but quick to drop them be's
Put 'em in the trunk and that ain't no front
'Cause
me I was done
I got a daughter so I gotta move smarter
Gotta go a little harder gotta show 'em I'm the one (The one)
They use to tell me, they use
serve them dope boys
I see so many crack babies and laid bitches
Out by the bus stop hounded for a nigga's riches
I just fuck em' then duck em' and then
(preach)
Gary, Indiana, Chi Town man (tell 'em som')
Y'all know better represent my boy Freddie
Gibbs spittin' that hot shit (let's go)
Come on
Yo, I'm
Whoa!
A get your hands in the air, and get to clappin 'em
And like, back and forth because ah
This is, what you thought it wasn't
It beez,
Whoa!
A get your hands in the air, and get to clappin 'em
And like, back and forth because ah
This is, what you thought it wasn't
It beez,
Whoa!
A get your hands in the air, and get to clappin 'em
And like, back and forth because ah
This is, what you thought it wasn't
It beez,
confused
The last album raised the bar, but this gon' tear off the roof
Read all about it, get your fix in, I'm independent
Ain't got a deal, but I can tell
on them pills
Dade County dope-boy, best believe I'm 'bout dat doe
Chose come up get em yep, we ain't really by that def
Yeah, I'm the future, got
[Verse 1: Juvenile]
Uh, Uh, Uh I took my first break in seventy-five
I tell the story like yesterday when(??) was alive
didn't do shit with my
a Costco pack of rubbers in my gutter
This boy is pipin' hot please go and run and tell your mother
Yeah confess ya love for me right on the couch
Wait for
Soulja Livin' tru
I do Flint and D beats cause I know them boys
Hit ya street with the shh, it ain't no remorse
I'm on that Scarface shit, nigga
boutta splurge 50
Tell them bitches if they pussy smell like fishes I ain’t swimming (no)
Bumping Soulja slimmy gotta nigga feeling wicked
And Yea I’m
love you
So tell em' I said fuck you
Yeah I said fuck you (Yeah yeah)
I snuck in Drake's house when he was alone inside (Uh oh)
You can say I have
Shake a real nigga hand errtime u
See em' see em' see em'
Young Flashy Nigga shinin'
Like i got on 3m 3m 3m 3m
Label nigga wanna sign me tell em' I
Ballin! Soulja Boy Up In Da Buildin
(Throw Some D's On That Bitch)
I Just Got My Report Card
(Throw Some D's On That Bitch) I
Just Got My Report Card
(Throw
see Slade and tell him hey whats up
If this song wasn't on replay then you probably playing track one
Because you can go through this album and find
deadly but calm
Word to my born, dead by dawn
Got the right to bear arm, ring the alarm!
Another sound boy dyin, hot irons
Slugs flyin out the hardware
200 on the scat, and boy I know that pissed you off
Every time they play my song, they tell the DJ run it back
I saw you out there on the corner, why
seem so uncertain
Tell me how can I shine when I can't see past the curtains
I'm searching for answers but can barely scratch the surface
And this four
a call
I could Move through a room full of volters... NICE
And I still turn heads pultagice
Rock a cold chain
Neck full of Soulja ice
You young boys should
the message you on cc now
I make you albums sound like EPs now
I get better by the hour
Pussy comes with the power
Got yo bitch in the corner sending signals
(Why?!)
There he goes, right there with his toy souljas
I'm all by myself, let's git dis ova
Dogg down on the whole crowd, don't nobody move
Where my
a living
Don't play that boy
He the one gone make em feel it
No epidemic he the illest
Don't play with that boy
Cuz He gotta go gotta get it
And This
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