Lyrics:
They ask me " how you doin nigga?" I'm doing good doing well
Cooking up, hoping it'll sell
Surrounded by my niggas and some bad hoes can't ya tell?
joint right here?
How many people recognize this song?
This shit right here is called "You Got Me", ya nawmean?
It's on our album which is called
the message you on cc now
I make you albums sound like EPs now
I get better by the hour
Pussy comes with the power
Got yo bitch in the corner sending signals
Winnin' by a long shot
Know you gotta be the change
If you wanna see the change
First album was twenty fo'
Sixty fo' I leave the game
Mamba mentality
I'm
it-
You're being, you're being preyed on, you understand, you're, you're a young child
You're being preyed on by these guys who are trying to use you
Yah, Yah, Yah, here we go now, Yah
Little ghost wasn't raised in Compton
But young Ghost got it in up in Dena though
Where blood and Crips bumped
that sent for me
Back in Black
AC/DC that's my strap
On a highway to hell
Young kilo got the map
Ain't no fear
Ain't no danger
Couple bones in my chamber
winning (winning)
I don't go by 'Da Rules' like these young fairies, bitch I'm sinning (fuck it)
Popped a Cosmo and a Wanda bitch, cause I'm Yung Timmy
A desk job for a pay day
I weighed the risk and reward, you could feel the outcome
It only works if they buy my album
Never signing my name by an X like
album, in one night
I just wanna make things right
I just wanna walk in the path of light
Right hand to God, yeah, shining super bright
In this very
Yo, I bought that album man, it's wack man
I'm tellin you, I don't like it
I'ma be honest man
Honest?
I'm dead up, I'm serious
Serious?
I don't
shinin through my rearview watchin, 'cause I'm paranoid thinkin that I might have been spotted,as I pass by watchin I relax 'cause I'm home now, had
don't mind
It takes a lotta spine
To build all them young minds
Some of us get ghetto at the wrong damn time
Album what? we just makin' one
Young yout never came home
Now he's body's laid beneath a grave stone
All these angels losing their halos
Were all sinning just tryna get paid doe
for nothing
I'm a back em down like Shaq with this black 2-2-3 in my hand
Better pray that this chopper jam, like a radio single, man
Police radio
to find a woman when you' talented and black
When you hollerin' at labels
And they silencing you back
'Cause you fail to thoroughly discuss some violence
a part-time rider
All grown up but they think I'm a minor (Minor)
You might have a point right there
I'm still young but I bar like an old-timer
Call me a g
needed this on my album, young mogul with the bars, black hole among stars; trap flow stay hard, make you scream good god; student of the rap game, music
Class in session now
Most can't take it but Imma spit it anyhow
Young 'uns getting money
It's funny they think they're ready now
Old folks gossip
Wagwan, ain't seen my day ones in a while
If I show my face, I'll turn that party to a rager
Young Rolling Stone chasing the paper
Nowhere feels like home
coming uncivil dropped in to make these n*ggas shrivel
I came in the game feelin' like I'm Cameron Pruitt
Motion flow like fluid
Skid up all black it's
friends of all races
I ain't care if they was white, black, Latino, or Asian
Always judged by they heart, never judged by they faces
Can't say the same
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!
the help, I squeeze it and please it
I reps New York, young, fly Sinatra
Yeah apply the hatin', I supply the docks now
Hook
Cory Gunz:
Weezy F., you lines
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