Lyrics:
initially
Officially love and lust
Accompanied by misery
So obsessed with company
Watchin' how you move, how you walk
Where your compass be
Even when you move
schreibe am Meter, zerstückel die Hater
Und arbeite mehr als ich muss wie ein Streber
Baammm - hier ist mein Album und bye
Ich bin wie meine Nüsse,
And expect them not to know what a woman's clitoris is
Of course they're gonna know what intercourse is
By the time they hit fourth grade
They've got
floss mode
The life of a boss player
Fuck what you thought though
My enemies deceased
Die like a bitch
When my album hit the streets
Niggas can't
floss mode
The life of a boss player
Fuck what you thought though
My enemies deceased
Die like a bitch
When my album hit the streets
Niggas can't
And expect them not to know what a woman's clitoris is
Of course they're gonna know what intercourse is
By the time they hit fourth grade
They've got
to the pumps
Had you floating in the ocean
Now you trashed by the dumps
Nifty fifty gang, I was raised in the slumps
Pockets so fat like it's raised by
you fuckin' with
And watch all the snake bitches sucking dick
I'mma legend in this streets, high as fuck, Al Green
Sitting sideways, gone off that Isaac
New album the twenty fifth so you better mark your calendar
Shout out Drive By
Og's remember
I fiend bub full of green shrubs
And mushrooms, I bust rooms, open a custom
To float across the ocean with verbal motion the notion is boasting
I'm
at it, after mathematics
In the home of drive-by's and ak-matics
Swap meets, sticky green, and bad traffic
I dip through, then I give you (still)
hit it from the back
Hitting threes like I’m green keep a hunnid on me yeah it’s in my jeans
Doing dances on me while she throws it back
Take you in
bullets like they made by kodak
I keep it on my waist, I don't even show that
Hollow hit him from the front, why he leaking out his back
Now I ain't got no
Just keeps reminding us of the struggles
They start pulling up pictures
Of us getting hit
By dogs and firehoses and all that
You know like, my daughter
dir keine Sorgen, alter! Ich hab Graspäckchen da
Ja, der Mac ist am Start (yeah), bring' dein Album nicht raus
Steck's dir doch einfach direkt in dein
show you where this dirty shotgun goes
Mad like six green mean joe's
If i'm a little crazy i think it already shows
Because i talk about anything that
Tryna knock me down like you threw a late hit
YK don't got time, I'm making all these songs lit
Rapping on track 'bout how I got this gold
Yeah it's
at it, after mathematics
In the home of drive-by's and ak-matics
Swap meets, sticky green, and bad traffic
I dip through, then I give you (still)
And expect them not to know what a woman's clitoris is
Of course, they're gonna know what intercourse is
By the time they hit fourth grade
They've got
Yeah, whoa, whoa
I just been feeling like, it's all clickin', you know?
(Hit-Boy)
Like it's all working out, and I'm 'bout to work out
Colossal
Jeep, auf die Zivilcopbeamte
Zieh' die Shotgun, lande
Mehr Hits no-look als dieser Stevie Wonder
Schlampe
(Apocalyptic)
Ficke Rapper, die mit
option number 5
She Holly, and I'm her Tommy, her wallet is full of Johnnies
Honestly, I'm appalled by the cash she bring around me, yeah
What's a flex? I
to kill every nigga
That stand by him or speak for him
Can you stop actin' like you
Doin' me a favor? Do I seem rattled?
This idiot don't even know he tell
golfin' with my Callaway's
Or watchin' football, word to Joey Galloway
Take a shower start singin' like Al Green
From outside, it probably sound like
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