Lyrics:
I'm jus' tryna get by quick
I'm tryna drop my shit
I just wanna know when I'm gon' get my hit
Patience ain't enough I get it
I hope y'all respect my
mind
Writing with these lyrics that I find
Coming with these words that link rhymes
I think not when it comes to this
End of the album, finish this
I
an album by Traverse
c collection of different emotions, thoughts
Triumphs and tribulations
Enjoy
And put me down on my knees
I wrote an album a month
That´s what I´m best on i ain´t in a bed
But still I´m getting slept on
Trynna find another rapper
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
I am 10 albums in now
And no one you know
Gives you anything
Nothing is handed to you
So I gotta take it
And you know
Claim my claim
I am hip-hop
wit my partners
Next thing you know got walked out by the coppers
First juug I hit at school
Lord please forgive me I know you remember that
6 Peer
eating pork and beans
Viewing us listening to Weezer clean
Up our heart strings with hits
Gasp like pork and beans
Farting up your heart strings
Is this
Co-signed by Alchemist, stamped by Babu
Executive Produced, yours truely, got loot
It's a new day, phones still tapped
Watchin' the crew
They put out one
I ain't never ran never will how you feeling yo the fam know the fam know the deal
Hit the spot hit the spot just to celebrate let them hate
Yeah, said I might not be so bad, gotta leave it all I know the past is the past
Been through all the tests and I've been hoping to pass
Till we hit
Who done left their kid behind and sent a check
Cause they can't bother, real shit
I was raised by my brother and my mother
I'm unique, every problem
hits than Gary Barlow
More skills than Ronaldinho
We'll be making 10 tens the dough
Multi-Platinum albums and sold out shows
up above
If you coming at me just know that you getting bodied by singer named Truelove
I be so proud of me
You cannot talk to me,
Album of the year
Yeah, this is what's happening right here
Go to MySpace, slash Little J X
Check him out, y'all
This the official mixtape before the album
It's
hoes
who knows where the night might go, hit the doe
like yeah, blinded by the glare of the strobe light
see something i like its going down on sight
harder to play me
Than to fiddle backwards
Don't act like you knew my tactics
Cause when it hit's the fan
You know I stand last
I see through your true
chicks and get some digit's
And the DJ's playing them hit's
"Oh, this my jam! This my shit!
We don't know a word to a verse
All we know is the chorus
lightin' the green
I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam
Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails
Niggas throw us on they album
It's the return, East Atlanta, Santa!
Off the wall, off the chain
Off the top, I'm off the leash
So many freaks coming by the spot
Had to move,
This is your album, so that means you definitely got to get funky, so run it
[The D.O.C.]
Swinging, singing a brand new rap
On a rhythm concocted by
stalker
Words thrillin', so real they're chillin', the hit author
Gettin' louder than a shot gun, you don't want none
Rhyme pays was the name of the album
don't hit me up first, man
Ya'll must got me confuse I take niggaz by two I break niggaz in two, man
Ya'll fake niggaz is thru I hear ya album is poo
I be lookin' like bye-bye
By the way, namaste, where your momma stay?
Tell her Ronnie comin' round the way, lucky day
I be comin' with the God body
Me
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