Lyrics:
this and gave no cares (not one)
Now I'm moonwalkin' on every song
Area code is 7-6-0, 6-1-9, 8-5-8
Think I'm great, think y'all late
That's okay
your data and when you're all set
Put it all together and whatever you get
It's new math
What's a bag of chips divided by five,
Well that's
ALL OUT IN THE NUMBERS
(Words and Music by Armin Sabol, Published by Shiva Songs Edition)
THEY SAY THAT ONE’S THE BEGINNING AND THE VERY END
TWO IS
Hard truth soldier radio
Brothers and sisters, this is not a test
I've been asked by Public Enemy
Leader Chuck D to make this emergency
and walk five hundred more to be the
Guy that wrote a song about his tired limbs cue the
Violins spin bottles limited options
No hand break when sitting
came
They wonderin, how the hell he just won't stop and
They wonderin, how this nigga stays so hot
Well it's a combination of five things I live by
I
it on
You play ball and you think you Lebron
You might spend 5 days picking a song
By then i’m on a racetrack winning along
I’m doing it right
mo songs girl I’m coming in late
Only one way a nigga get this here chain off my neck pussy nigga u gon have to come take it
If I put five bitches
Yeah! Another funky song for your mind in the nine-two
And the nine-three, P-Dog in the motherfuckin' house!
Bout to get it started
Bout to get it
*Royce talking*
D-12, worst fucking rap group ever (You ready?)
Royce Da 5'9" would like to apologize to the family of my homeboy Bugz
for lettin'
'til 4 she could be home by 5.
Shuts her eyes for the rest of the route,
And keeps the head-phones loud to drown everything out
But the same old song
playing when I pull up with that thing and I start slaying
5 10 155 I do damage motherfucker
Don't you fuck with the vibe I need peace my brother
I seen
what turned his dream into a nightmare
Malcolm X said, "By any means necessary."
He didn't mean just for you, brother, he meant for everybody
Maybe if we
Classic, like a slapbox festival
Or when cats come home from doin five live federal
Surrounded by cheese like Domino, cat be cool
Mommy's got a gat, papi too
half of us on dope
And the other half in incarceration
If the ones they want dead ain't
Killed by what they instigated
They put some dope on a brother's
selected with the highest scrutiny
I play Mr. Christian and just take mutiny
Cause this is my destiny, a lotta brothers keep testin me
But you haven't
the Fab Five
Feel like Dale Earnhardt
How the Lamb' drive
Go and check the score, bitch
We winning by a landslide
Playbook full of scams, boy
I could coach
feelings, but I kept them inside
Did it all by myself, I was stuck in my grind
If you ask how I'm doing, I'll say I'm fine
If you're calling my phone, then
White Power is...creating Hate where at first there was none
From Chinese gunpowder, the invention of the gun
From ancient Egypt, steal
besides me
Corona's got my eyes low, lower than Chinese
Supply these niggas masked up over them 5Gs
Supply the world with this vaccine
Relax queen i'm
the law on us
They want us in jails, with bails too high to bond, but am I the Don?
Shit, I'll be out by the morn', word bond
My game is on lock, till
pop up
Ran off the field got locked up, left Allison knocked up
Going to the doctor all by herself
Put her books 'about Criminal Justice back
Transliteration
Chjornyj Voron, chto ty v'josh'sja
Nad moeju golovoj!
Ty dobychi ne dob'josh'sja,
Chjornyj Voron, ja – ne tvoj…
Ty dobychi ne
ever heard in your life.
I'm talking about the kind of song where not only is the character in the song dead by the end of the song, but he's been
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