Lyrics:
to mike, he kicked her out, we call it hack-e-sack/Bitch, I think I’m big poppa/one mo chance, spint her ass again, think i’m chris wallace/real shooters,
it
Met her on Monday
By Tuesday
She showing me titties
Come Thursday
She throwing it back
Stay with a cap on my mf head
But i promise
What come out my
I like staring out babies (but I cant do it all the time)
© Gary Stewart Burt 2004
on a filter
We got sticks and chops that cut through locks, might send you to the shop
I really made it out and now I'm having, but this shit won't stop
Steady
they heard is..
Don't even claim we did it
Golden Sun, Gary iced me out with all these VS1's
Wish somebody would reach for these chains, cause I'ma pop
sleeves
I was beat down by a muscular chief
Face down on the curb, cuts on my cheek
Got to the station lumps on my knees
Who battered me? That's police
but you ain't killing things
You better chill it out for we shoot some things
Cut the lights
Cut the scene
Shut it down I'm about to get mean
Cuz I had
an ass-kisser
I call it if it's right--if rappers ain't gay or dikes
Then they unpluggin' your mic
My shit is cordless--I'm thugged out and wild as shit
an ass-kisser
I call it if it's right--if rappers ain't gay or dikes
Then they unpluggin' your mic
My shit is cordless--I'm thugged out and wild as shit
dry in the mud so I got it out the dirt
Sparing niggas, you could've striked first
But I'm on & the iron's burning hot
Hit your hoe, so she greet me
shallow glance
Fuck your small talk
I'd rather not speak
I need that silence for my peace
For what it's worth
It's worth it
My eyes look dead but I'm day
by the name Remedee Raps
I'm bout to start it off then Angie
Army gon finish it off
Let's get it!
It's that season come and get your yearly pap
Checkin
Aye, how many hoes you bout to fuck, fool? Twelve
(We got London On Da Track) Hey
Let it all work out
Let it all work out
Let it all work out
games with me
You best bet you're gonna lose
Running out of patience
Putting holes in my good shoes
It's very real
I just can't forget
Rubber meets
Uh
They wanna cut ties
Until they see I'm up right
Stay holdin heat and they hug tight
How is it brotherly love
I
Understand why YU would cut ties
on the beats
Never settle for defeat
Hustle by any means
For the family that's my team
Need racks bussin out the jeans
This hustle in my jeans
We gonna get it by
Ah wait
Got no patience anymore
I live and let die I'm Roger Moore
So 8 out of 10 cats wanna try and push me?
I'll jimmy your car open Octopussy
, right
I'm way out of your league you can fuck with em
That nigga by your side bitch you stuck with em
But it ain't hard to make that change
Fuck with
Yeah
I'm off a bar, they want me out of here (boom)
My hitter gon' air out the opposite (boom)
On the block with my ice, still rockin' it (yes)
MAKE UP YOUR MIND: Written by Shunda Mclaughlin Moore
Looking back over my life, I can see were He brought me out. He's done everything He said He
Cut it
Cursed tool like Maki, I pull the stick out
Kenpachi cause you a bitch now, yeah, Baki
Check how these hit's sound
Come match me, come pull your
It really helped during a difficult time and was appreciated by all who were supported and not forgotten.
Now we've weathered through a time of higher
gone
Fertile Mrs. Moore had thirteen kids
But still looked good
'Till her ol' man jumped leave on a ship
She never read a book
But by Christ
gone
Fertile Mrs. Moore had thirteen kids
But still looked good
'Till her ol' man jumped leave on a ship
She never read a book
But by Christ
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