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I needed I hit the road on the weekends to do a show Ain't ask for money but they Still gave a lil' dough Just a bunch of wild kids in the front row
you off Broad, with the cause (yeah) bitch on a mission Keep them niggas by they nuts while you hoes be dick kissin Missing the game, damn bitch it's
Guerrero Bob, also known as Tuan Nguyen, and Q Arsalan, I remember you went to see "Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2" with us I want to shout out my advisor
Vol. 2” Year: 2020 [INTRO: THE SARGENT] Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, What’s up? Uh, my name’s The Sargent. Um, I opened up my own amusement park. I bought it.
Vol. 2 Life Lessons Yeah, let's get to it
yeah yeah, yeah) Keeps the world grooving, grooving Uh uh uh, alright, uh huh Now if you want to step You gotta play it by the rules You gotta
ha) Yo, can't really figure this clown out Where is he from Jamaica, Queens, Cali or down south? (where you from?) And I could let an LA gun hit
a mack and you turnin Up the black in you Skill for skill you the minor we the major I grade your whole album like A bad term paper ZERO, don't be a fan!
through the first ten seconds and you still ain’t hit that skip button I appreciate you for that If I’m fortunate enough to have you stick around for
Yeah, ho! Yeah, ho! Yeah, ho! If I hit it one time, I'ma pipe her If I hit it two times, then I like her If I fuck three times, I'ma wife her
Yeah, ho! Yeah, ho! Yeah, ho! Yeah! If I hit it one time, I'ma pipe her If I hit it two times, then I like her If I fuck three times, I'ma
on hard I be rippin them tracks And by the time it hit the shelves I'll be gettin' it back! So many niggaz playa hatin' So I'm totin a gat Pistol grippin',
it right Don't make a ass outta yourself, by assumin My music keeps you movin, what are you provin? You know that I'm two levels above you baby Hug
it right Don't make a ass outta yourself, by assumin My music keeps you movin, what are you provin? You know that I'm two levels above you baby Hug
imma wait til they finish Rocking a chrome heart jacket wit these Rick Owens and Miyake denim Snakes in the grass I can't get hit by venom Let my lil bro
In 2018, The New Yorker Magazine coined me, The Queen of Christmas. It's a title that has stuck with me ever since. Up until that point, I had
to get by the dope dealing, fatal killings In fair times so writing rhymes It ain't just the police We kill each other just lost another brother Fast
I cant let em catch me lackin Architect no rapper this is more than an album I was born by the river By the river In a little tent Oh and like
still gets views No one ever records the stuff you do No one could name a song that is by you I drop a hit and make another one on the next day I'm
to slip into a life that's easier An attention span whittled away for years by social media Then COVID hit that shit like a meteor Procrastinated every
this whole city on lock Cause my album's hot And I know that y'all been waitin' a while So I'mma hit you with this Full Metal Jackit like Private Pyle,
(Fuck all you hoes! Get a grip, motherfucker!) Yeah, this album is dedicated To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin' To all
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
well We are some partying mothafuckas" Tired of these rappers Tired of these jackers I'm tired of these dances By these fucking backpackers And I'm sick
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