Lyrics:
decay
But I still hope that my album will get a few plays
I'll get by, taking this day by day
But if I die, just know you'll be okay
All I've ever done
I ain´t really trynna blow up, though
I´ll just take it step by step
I ain´t really trynna blow up, though
I´ll just take it step by step
I ain´t
Never give up cuz it worth it my brodie
And never forget where and who u was with
Step by step u moving forward alone
And nobody can understand how
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lucky, my God! Flight of Icarus in those grubby dirty by now horribly sticky little fingers and
hands and grubby palms, and oh what else is grubby, I don't
never even called me by my name
You don't have to call me Waylon Jennings
And you don't have to call me Charlie Pride
And you don't have to call me Merle
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
said shit would be simple, get rich and stay out the trenches, Lincoln Continental
Remember back to get by applyin' fundamental
In these streets you
a cold game
Played by the coldest man
Everything ya see is not
The 7-4 k
The son of cocaine
I'm a dopeman
Plus I'm holdin' weight
Cause I'm the dope
a beat by the pound
Nigga you just an ounce
Fuck that you just a milligram my nigga
Tryna get a glimpse of the life
Yo my life is like sorta like
I heard your album and I don't believe a word of it
I think you're soft like that trick, Mother Hubbard
Fillin' the cupboard with gang goods
Like
now we got mobile phones
Me and my homies used to battle at the park
We had to be back on our street by the time it got dark
We used to wear cross
crowds
As torturas - the tortures (in the 60's, a lot of people were tortured and killed by the government)
De longe vem a forte chuva - from far comes
pumpin' 93 say, "What's up
Church?" when I ride by in
That blacked out Ford GT
They write me stuff in my PO
Tell me 'bout their broken homes
Tell me 'bout
when the rents due
Yet thankless if things do improve
And nobodies moved by what you’ve been through
It's all about the groove the publics into
We was
dance like if I was Albert Alien
People just love it when the Biz starts to play
With my (beatboxing), and by the way
Skeezing with a girl is
Happy holidays
Let me come here and talk to you
I gotta stop sayin' I'm not doin' this shit no more knowin' I'm cappin'
(Great John on the beat by
I just bagged a half a brick by eye
Now I'm just twiddling my thumbs
Jakes try question me about a headshot bro
I was sitting in the sun
I was
thugs from the R-O-C
Sigel Sigel in the house
Uh-huh, sick bastard
Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer
Uhh, uhh, Memph Bleek in
from the R-O-C
Sigel Sigel in the house
Uh-huh, sick bastard
Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer
uh, uh, Memph Bleek in the house
But I gotta learn in order to teach
Then I gotta burn in order to reach
My niggaz
Yo, I see what I see day by day
Hoping that the Lord will pave
thugs from the R-O-C
Sigel Sigel in the house
Uh-huh, sick bastard
Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer
Uhh, uhh, Memph Bleek in
production's tight
Sometimes I might catch a severe case of writer's block
But by the end of the day you'll be on my jock
My name's Malik my hobby's putting
only time will tell, but until then I'll be stackin' my mail
by album album sells, Magnolia wear dwells
I love them bricks, I love the ghetto hoes
'cause
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