Lyrics:
on everything I sit in
I love my nappy hair
I love the shit I wear
You gotta love the squad-ad girl
If she ain't giving love to the whole squad-ad
Get outta
Oakland got chased by the police
And these hoes want to kick it
I met a bitch from Frisco gave me her number on a traffic ticket
And tonight I'ma page
is just the guy to lead a crew
Right up to your face and diss you
Everyone saw me on the last album cover
Holding a pistol something far from
up get em yep, we ain't really by that def
Yeah, I'm the future, got the goons 'round me
And yeah I rep my city, bitch
I'm from Dade County
Ay!
It's you and me on a beach
In 1998
Leaning into the breeze
From the willows
And rhythm and grace are reborn in this place
I'm assured
and Bantu peoples?
That this soil,
First fed the stomachs of our many brown faced,
Nappy headed,
Strong facial featured mysteries of African beauty,
Long
the bricks flipping
Jewels dripping
The margarita sipping - description
Nappy blowouts shaped up, brown-skinned
And ask the hood rats about my
Dick
a year to two years actually. By the
time you lot are listening to this, which is February, I mean as we know Can I Play With Madness was
released the 2nd
it to the game before it's halftime
Ten stacks for the seats or you can have mine
Never seated by a snitch, they give me bad vibes
Pop a bottle
I'm ridin' in a Caddy stuntin' like my daddy
Rollin up my girlfriend her first name Mary
Last name Jane look at these chains
Afro, Nappy Boy call me
the money out, all the way
Okay, lil' dirty, nappy-headed East Atlanta nigga
Father said that I was a force
.44, Hank Aaron chrome
Wanna make it home,
[Chorus]
If you're into S & M, baby, you can hurt me
If you like going down, do me like a Slurpee
Do you like it dirty? Baby, come and serve me
In the back of my Lincoln with the suicide doors
Yeah, a-huh
T-Pain, J Lyriq, Nappy Boy
Hit me on my hot line, I'm celebrity nine, so hustle, ooo
Played in Cincinnati
With my whole head nappy
Made a rally in the street
With nothin' but a beat
Gotta grudge against a judge
Kick em out that
get got, bloodhounds
Tryin' to hunt down the Brown Fox, the ill na na
No more sexin' me all night, thinkin' it's alright
While I'm lookin' over
was cold, didn't see Yellowstone is was closed
Well the albums coming soon, matter fact June
Hit my page, give me your thoughts on the tunes
From nesbly girl, who wanna go twirl
Cuz she make me happy
She make me wanna go flappy
When I'm with her I'm comfy and nappy
Aye, aye, aye
She so
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
design, in my own clothing line
By the name of Birdgang feeling free as a bird mane
One hundred percent, fifty-fifty, dry-fit, ringspun, tri-blend
Aw Naw
In the back of my Lincoln
With the suicide doors
Dere a huh
Ha ha t-pain j lyriq nappy boy
Hit me on my hot line
I am a slob on the 9
Oh
Baby
that follow me
Back to the Soul Shack with packs of rap colonies
Max that, Foreign Objects is mad abstract, make Shadrach
Offender want to go like
If you a downer stay the fuck outside the club, ho
If you tired, wake the fuck up for the town, ho
If you brown nosed, keep your mouth closed
By any
[verse 1]
Played in Cincinnati
Wit my whole head nappy
Made a rally in the street
Wit nothin but a beat
Gotta grudge against a judge
Kick em out that
the yacht, sound proper
Straight cash get got, bloodhounds
tryin to hunt down the Brown Fox, the Ill Na Na
Verse Two: Foxy Brown
No more sexin me all
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