Lyrics:
don't know what makes these little
Dudes all get into conflict
With somebody that'll bloody up your
Body and stomp 'em
I tell boys "I'm the shit" you
Know
shoes
I'm up, the price is sky high (sky high)
They say their two cents, I'm fine
I got no sense I fly like
Ooh ah, ooh ah
Only abide by my rules
skirt like a young perv, knock 'em out!
We the mob, homie who need a job?
Plus I'm so fly tell Derek Fisher I need a lob
Too many in this industry I need
some motherfucking shit happen, man
It's your boy Yung Joc, you know, Block Entertainment
And my motherfucking nigga Trae, asshole by nature
Ay, Trae,
Gather all those shit and even dashing out
Street is not by who hustle pass
And is not by muscle
By God's grace boys must bubble
I pray for more life for
Dead dead Ima kill em
Dead dead dead dead
With the needle and thread
(Jocin' in the park
I'm cold with it)
Dead dead dead sing indian red
(Jocin' in
and playettes, teachers, staff, and students
I am very honored to welcome you to the high school annual talent show
Brought to you by the makers of Wiz Khalifa
and the beast yeah
Come with me
Tell me what you need babe
I can get you three or
Get you everything babe
Come with me
Fly you out to greece
Girl please
But don’t
tell em stay away I got due time
I just tell them get away have a good night
Fly away from the moonlight
It's still people that's okay with the good life
wrapped around a fuckin' white brick
White chick, try to tell me what the price is
Nice kids, we was tryin' rob 'em hundred bands
Son of Sam, make
couldn't be supreme
Bounce if you know you fly when you hit the scene
Turn ya back on ya haters, that's cutting through the seam
Kuz they can't even tell
Fly nigga couldn't tell me nothing different homes
And I be good til the fat woman sing a note
I'm tryna find life's meaning up in this Patron
I'm
to
We some real life bosses got 'em looking at you
We grind hard to play harder
We touch the stars that's what they call us
We grind hard to buy
Wake up it's a new day feeling stressed but i'm ok, boy you know you gotta push on
New day make the call first play we gon show em what we got we gon
chasin round some rats
Told em get behind me satan I ain't livin in my past
Reading letters to the church this boy Paul wasn't playing
Gifts never ceased
that lil' 6 nuts, 6 is for the flies
Never become a snitch, if you would rather be a quiet
Never know 'em, never met 'em
Never seen that fella, never,
answers
What! Come on can you hear me in the back
If you can't let 'em know and we'll turn up the track
So come on
(They're addicted to power,
XCHÆNGE run that ting' back
I'm on top like ima king
I stay fly, I ain't talking bout' no wings
Any obstacle I battle in the ring
The Black Mamba
from nothing now you see me pop out the brunch hen..
surpass everybody by a landslide
fly first class now I'm up in N.Y
and I was sent by Wyclef
to be
Pennsylvania and some from Maryland
To see the Rebel boys get spanked by Honest Abe's broad hand
We said we'll run â??em to Atlanta and to Galveston Bay
But
you're gettin' fucked out your green by a white boy
With no Vaseline
("Now you're gettin' done without Vaseline")
("Now you're gettin' done without
they say
When they see me passing by
And I be so fly
I am not really feeling the boy ye
Because they sound like toy ye
I break I read I spoil ye
E no
We taking off!! Running Fly Routes thru the fucking City
Touchdown!!! Told you boys that there ain't no fuckin with me
Let em know!! CTC bitch, we
clothes
And by the end of the night I'll have a million hoes
I like hood boys
Yeah
They from the gutter
He got lots of bitches I wish I could tell his
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