Lyrics:
least influenced by The Mayor of Margaritaville, Jimmy Buffet, to whom this album is dedicated with much love and many thanks. We will forever cherish
songs were, directly or indirectly, inspired or at the very least influenced by The Mayor of Margaritaville, Jimmy Buffet, to whom this album is dedicated
parents hit the ground, hope I'm heaven as well (well)
But if they're good, I'm good, and everythin' else is soft (yup)
My brother's kids are blessed
a pack of germs, people swerve from the gamer
Suave player, I'm all black like the Raiders
You wonder how I did it, album anticipated
Well it's
Talking on em gram
And I would kill Nigga well just to have a dad
I go by milo hit a nigga in the back if that hoe is a pimp
Witness on that scene wanna see
but I'll add them to my album
If you fuck with it, then I like you
If you don't like this shit, you're a psycho
Let me explain why I'm rapping like this
to better things
No more runnin about the cove wit' the glock cocked, and slangin mary jane
I got a well focused head and well educated brain
And plus my
watch 'em all
Jack the Ripper, Jack, Jack the Ripper
Peace to Jack tripper and those well stoned bumper stickers
My name is Sean and I never had
a sticky green drop
Hop out
Let off fifty-three shots
Wouldn't care if I hit fifty-three cops
Giuliani might as well be merkin' n****s
'Cause the time
to say bitch?
Well save it
All I have is long dick for the tasting so open up and see how much you can take in
Before I do this ritual with shell casings
So, me and my crew decide to hit up a party
When we got to the joint
It had already started
I had some food with me from Boston Market
Save for after
mouth 'til the album drop (why's that?)
TrackBoy beat like a freak, work a king on the block
I'm seventeen, name ain't same on the block
And beat
You tryin to diss? Well you might get smacked
In fact I might stomp you straight in the ground
So kill that talk and have a Coke and a smile
Or else
to be sweet, by keepin it street
Lazy poet and I don't got to have them tactics to turn fake rappers
And crack addicts, tell the weak hit from my bomb
this a make-a-difference album
And it's no jerking you around, watch the outcome, man
It's a lot looking for a savior, well I'll come, yeah
And you'll
And expect them not to know what a woman's clitoris is
Of course they're gonna know what intercourse is
By the time they hit fourth grade
They've got
be smokin' OG by the whole zip, then i walk in the studio and make a whole hit.
Niggas can't hold this, if it's drama then we pin you down in the alley
and shove it up your ass
Followed by the "oohs" and "aaahs"
Your foolish pride gonna fuck around and put you on the loosin' side
Who got bodied?
Nigga, you
I’ve just been playing for keeps
Staying silent not making a peep
Thinking I’ve changed just wait for the albums release
You don’t know shit about me
Uh,
a cassette, and pop it in the tape deck
Album or eight-track, as long as it ain't wack
Funk is addictive, but not like crack black
I'm hip to the old shit,
(Intro: Bizarre)
Reel Wolf, underground shit
I guess I'm up first, right?
I'mma rap first?
Alright, let me hit this blunt right quick
(Verse 1:
loves this dick
I'm in the cut chilling with fucking Mcnich
Well light him up like a fucking glow stick
I'm like a dog I can't be tamed
We doing drive bys
(Ooh yeah, dangling)
Chains dangling, bling (Ooh)
Hoes yellin mary me
Hot (Hot) sauce (Sauce) drippin (Drippin)
Show no remorse cause I kill
Chains,
to the sky some days
It's like I try some days
Just to get by some days
I be smoking tree Monday through Sundays
I'm usually laidback
Not too much noise you'll
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