Lyrics:
I just bagged a half a brick by eye
Now I'm just twiddling my thumbs
Jakes try question me about a headshot bro
I was sitting in the sun
I was
That's all Schultz I'm causing flagrant three's
Was just a kid next door now I'm pulling agent Beam numbers
By any means possible, a Kareem hunter
Real
three different egos so don't go expecting the story to stay within honesty
If I cop a fit then my other personas gon get one, so I multiply by 3
Every
up that kelp
No I am not smoking mids
I Smoke the finest of top shelf
Made an album yes I did
And bitch I mixed it by myself
Long ass nights inside my
Fart 1, Fart 2, Fart 3
They're long streams of pure poetry, formed by as many searchable keywords as possible
This is where the work transcends
Every
The truth is gonna set you free
But first its gonna piss you off
Begging on your knees but I stand by it, I don't wanna talk
I got what I need
Intro
Yo DT
Spice it up, man
Fake Friends
Verse 1
Hate the way you never even call my phone, yeah
When we were friends, I used to be better alone,
Cassidy
Album :
Submitted by : Daniella Roman ~*A.k.A Bubbles*~
Corrected by :
Rated : 6.3 (3 votes)
INTRO
R.Kelly:
Ladies and gentlemen, you are
Wouldn't be where I'm standing if they hadn't have fought for me,
From a nothing rep, now we live busting sets,
So if you own a Hoods album you get nuff
Verse 1 [Spice 1] bailin out the cut wit 2 dime pieces,
keep killas like pitbulls on leashes,
aint no muthafuckin suckas,
nigga my soilders elite,
the number one album, ou
And I told 'em all I'm excited, ouu
And I told 'em all that they righteous, ouu
All you gotta do is be with Christ (facts!)
Niggas
playing the song and says the spice is you and me
Get Get Get Get Getting so high
Check this melody
[Bridge 1: Sonny B & kyte]
You know we I.P.P
Yeah you
We the in-timidators, why'all in-timidated
By our bling bling ring ring, and I can't debate it
LOWRIDERS (bzz bzzt) hittin on switches
As we PASS
Dippin' the four though, double X 3-D Polo
If hip-hop was the league, I'd be the motherfuckin' logo
Your last shit was so-so, you should sign
it graphically
Direct order, hit the border, then slaughter
Horrific torture, by prolific authors
Shape and mold MC's, like I'm playing the skelly top
I say
Only two albums deep
Like a quarter of the way
To the finish line
Some claim kick back give it time
Other's like hustle harder it'll slip
lots of money, no debt, all cash
Seven female wives, seven seven seven female wives (Yes sir)
I walk in the club and all eyes on me
You can tell by my
out
Two times you've been sitting
Times three you've started giving
Four hours pass by you there sleeping ok so day dreaming
Sundown moon up days pass
Talking:Cuz I'm tellin you man they ain't nothing else to talk about
the same shit every motherfuckin album, I don't give a damn how many he put
out
'll stay doing me
While you shoot for two, I'ma shoot for three
Chef curry in it
Got a lot of shit on my plate, eat some curry with it
She gon' spice it up
start him?
Now they can't park him
I go into the booth and just change like Clark Kent
Lamborghini dark tint
Philly blunts cigar scent
I'm by myself
known for much
Only that no one could survive more than three days without dying from dehydration
No one except, for Little Sandy
A man so dangerous that
load up
And come looking
But on another note juice album
I understand you dropping single
After single man
You give' em a lil taste man
You getting they
Everybody simmer down there once was boy
Who became the man
Get your snacks
Buckle up for lovely story this evening
He goes by the name of Colt
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