Lyrics:
Get to forgettin'
Then it's on they album when it drop
My verses steady, be hittin'
I do this here for a livin'
Flow with precision
Yeah you know my
inspired by the corner kind
Foreign ride, tints on thirty-five, trap door inside
For the stick, '95's for the kicks
Neon green, I had 'em too but was
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
was driven
Driven by ya looks
I liked your smile
Get to know me for a while
I was in the cherry AMG
Peep you from the corner of 130
You looking
This the Outro on the
Album Of The Year
When truth seekers meet gate keepers with loaded heaters
Haters never check us it's tricky like my Adidas
thoughts by my window
In a black dress
Death chillin in da corner wit
A blunt lit
Planning on my death
They gonna kill me for da sun set
Gotta get it how u
Cruising on my skateboard
Unsure why I bottle all this hate for
My heart big and my face warm
But my anger is way too strong, oh
And this corner is
to encounter with my counterparts
On how to burn the block apart
Break it down into sections
Drugs by the selections
Some use pipes, others use injections
to dot, connectin' blocks
I concoct vocals that's liable to make your heart stop
Termination completed, and I'm out like the seasons
Murderin' MC's for
enough
Drive-by's, blood-spattered on my shoe, I'm not hood enough
But why cry?
I Waka Flocka Flame, hit your block up
Thug life, it's in my veins, go
dance like if I was Albert Alien
People just love it when the Biz starts to play
With my (beatboxing), and by the way
Skeezing with a girl is
and the ignition then hopped out
crew walked in, shut the whole block down
now, hit the door like god damn
hey is this a party aint it man i dont understand
why
Lord forgive me
Kill him where he stand and stand over him, shake his hand
Then jump back in that mini van, double back to his block and blam I
Tired of these rappers, tired of these jackers
I'm tired of these dances by these fuckin' backpackers
And I'm sick of all these hipsters, I'm sick
a sawed-off blast, 'cause y'all all soft
And I'm the black hearse that came to haul y'all ass in
It's for the hood by the corner store
Many try, many die,
[Verse 1]
My, first album had no famous guest appearances
The outcome: I'm crowned the best lyricist
Many years on this professional level
Why would
strip only get a grand a day
N' there ten of y'all on it
Pretending y'all doing it
You don't get stacks boy, you a pack boy
Be on the corner for a hundred
strip only get a grand a day
N' there ten of y'all on it
Pretending y'all doing it
You don't get stacks boy, you a pack boy
Be on the corner for a hundred
dance like if I was Albert Alien
People just love it when the Biz starts to play
With my (beatboxing), and by the way
Skeezing with a girl is
and rhymes? Just saying
I've been blazing all year and they ain't listen right, they was acting like my album was the Kryptonite
This time last year, man, I was
Kill him where he stand or stand over him shake his hand
Then jump back in that mini van, double back to his block
And blam I ain't backing down
y'all all soft
And I'm the black hearse that came to haul y'all ass in
It's for the hood by the corner store
Many try, many die, come at Nas if you want
down in the ten by fo', controllin the house
We live in hard knocks, we don't take over we borrow blocks
Burn em down and you can have it back daddy,
love it
Because it be free for all if I drop another album then I did it for my dawgs
That be standing on the corner with the coronas
In his baggy jeans
Discuss these by corner to the block album galactic Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In