Lyrics:
betcha betta know ian steppin’ by my
Motha fuckin' self I got the gang with me on this Album all we do is bang
Its OT$ Gang we betta than you lames putcha
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
birds on my block like Bert and Ernie
It might just hit me, the workers chirp me
Bring them white chicks with me
Laverne & Shirley
Money on the table
If the sound of my voice is a presence in your presence at the moment
I just want to say thank you
This project, not by any means is to become
Rev. ain't right, his church ain't right
Deacon is a pimp, tell by his eyes
Mrs. Parks said, "Brother Starks, meet you at the numbers spot
Heard you got
And doze off like snores, but odds like that with these thoughts I have's
Like a giant getting squashed by ants
If this is the test of time, I'd pass with
Indeed truly we are the mighty mighty BDP posse
This is our fourth album and we're still not takin' no shorts
Yeah, ha hah!
On the wheels
My back against the wall
Like I see y'all fronting
Drowning in your own spit and
Ain't coming up with nothing
I call this shit "Rapper Shit"
Cause I
the plan
This is the end, of your life
This is the end of the album a 3rd one cookin up right
You know the grind never stops living continuously
Exaggerating
the screen
But then I brick
How could I miss if you are everything you're said to be
Ain't this meant for me?
Then you remind me life on earth is just rent
To hit the top, first you have to gotta fall
Before you make it
With for 4 minutes of your time
Watch me demonstrate it
This was the rise and fall
Of my
late my
Eyes start looking oriental
And this pen is so temperamental, it's mental
I get money but you still see me in a rental
Shaking the petrol pump
off it...
I'm never late I'm early I stay up out the way
My super's name is Shirley she hates my Beats by Dre's
She thinks my work is stellar & I'ma
Brrrah Brrrah Brrrah Motherfuckers Wah
This is Lil Dinky
And this is Eauldie
I can't fall asleep, too many rhymes inside my cranium
I'm raining them
write these tunes
And for you to stress a nigga like I?m running these hoes is outta line
Goodbye to your life, pack up your clothes and go
[Hook sung by
coming from
They've made my rarity humdrum
This is how I'm spun
I'm not dumb
I'm not Barbie, I'm definitely someone
I make stupid voices for fun
I'm not
This that 420 Anthem
Rollin' weed up by the handful
If you smokin' at my spot
I need to know if you can handle
'Cause we smoke it by the quarter
This that 420 Anthem
Rollin' weed up by the handful
If you smokin' at my spot
I need to know if you can handle
'Cause we smoke it by the quarter
the free-throw line and bang
Now, I bust and crush tracks, nothin' really changed
Except, twelve-inch scars on my body
What I mean by that, I was hit by some
Skepta, Roll Deep, yeah
E16, n17, e3, sw9, e14, n13 we do this ting
Rules and regulations
I've been a scholar since ching chang walla
Real life, not
have words
And stories bout my life hit the net like a bad serve
Bitter women I'm overtextin' are PMS'ing crazy this year
Fuckin' with my image
I was
on my head just for your album, bruh
Tell me lil' boy
If it's beef I can chop this shit up
Like it's prime and treat you like you Optimus
My chain is
Ru and Frogg at?
I put my hood on like it was cold as fuck
West side Cedar Block and niggas know what's up
I'm with the shit though, my album drop,
the people confused
Damned by the media that keep 'em subdued
I been around the world, seen a lot of shit in my life
Same sirens, same ghetto birds swirlin'
.jpg/225px-Shirley_Bassey_(1971).jpg "Shirley Bassey")
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