Lyrics:
away in July 2018.
‘You move me like music.’
Album design by Marloes van Asselt
Desktop publishing by Mediadub
Front cover illustration by Mencia
last
Out here, we don't do things fast,
Don't shine the metal, we want it to rust
Please, just move along,
Don't know why you're hear, GPS must be wrong
stand tall
Cuss my best moves behind my back like Jamal
Hang em by a string and watch em tell it all
Too many bags in my hand, I said I’m shopping
got shit to do this Friday
Fucked that bitch like a school essay
By the way 90 on the motorway motorway
Out here chasing paper tho I'm getting paid
62 in 1959
-Words and Music by J. Leslie McFarland and Aaron H. Schroeder
(Ooh)
They did the Wang Dang Taffy-Apple Tango
They did the Wang Dang
feat. Animal, Trav
I'm a hustler, not by choice (1x)
[AZ]
I didn't fall from heaven, I rose from hell
Bigboy, get bagged, he gon' hold my
album
Puff Daddy, enough already
Now its P. Diddy still sound shitty
How can your group be called Da Band
No body plays an insterment man
I dont
day by day
Hopin that the Lord can, pave my way
Have I been forgotten, have I forsaken
Or maybe I'm just wrong with the moves that I've
Ty flyin by in 'Lac truck like a {O.G.}
And Gotti's dough's quiker then a {O.G.}
Ferrari and Charli and Jody move like a {O.G.}
Ol' Wizzy
an album, get classes
(Chorus)
(Prodigy)
Look around your surrounded by the M-O-B
B-D-E-E-P
Infamous niggas rep Queensbridge housing P's
My dunns
a fuck if they like me or not
I'ma raise this bitch
'Til you little fucks drop to the floor
Nobody move, nobody make a sound
My nigga, why'd ya got
fuck it I love it here I call it my birthplace
Whenever I walk in they makin' the worst face
Surrounded by Fillipinos I think of the worst case
Watch
wicked deams (deamons)
I keep my pistol by my bedside one in the chamber
Preoccupied with homocide my life's in danger
Rollin down the four-five beware
Ayo, I break bread, ribs, hundred dollar bills
Peel on Ducatis and other four wheels
Write a book full of medicine and generate mills
Tour the album
We shot the motherfuckin pack yo
Yo to all my niggaz uncivilized to civilized
We cook the shake move the weight across the tri state
Them jooks
To a funky beat to make you have a ball and
Jump, make you move your rump on the floor and like pump
C'mon don't be a chump, I see four and maybe five
to pitch them pies, better life than flipping fries
I'm the one the Crips despise
Move the Yay or kiss the sky, for having dreams that 50 died
Eulogy by Mary
Felon, fights behind me on the intersection
Sex and drugs my anthology on perfection
Dress superb admired by conspirists
Who wanna try me but ain't high
that's
There's a lot of percussion
There was yeah
Lots of things getting hit by other things
A notch down
Ctrl+A
Kay, now we're ready
Ctrl+C
We literally
I think she meant that life isn't passing me by (Passing me by)
But that I'm passing life too fast for me to realize
All we love one day will seize
climb, the
Unsuspecting rise by hundreds, from the finite
Ensemble of files, eyewitnesses find as
Hits, but the limelight can flicker in upon a
Disguise,
it up
I'm back to numb
The past is strung
In every single fuckin rap I've sung
I've had enough
Got my heart broken by a bitch
I wrote an album about it
Man this is to fucking hard to not go on the album...
I think it's gonna go on the album
Beautiful tango
Take me by the hand
Beautiful tango
Until
the way to live and behave and coexist[01:45.07]But most forget the "co" part[01:46.92]I sit back and listen to first albums like So Hard by Lil
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