Lyrics:
Hotspot
Any day now, dear IRS
I know, take your time
One week ago I created a new DeviantArt account as the Prophet Obblonge, and by the end of today
Will
the time of day
I am getting this shit by any means and any type of way
Still my love been on a lockdown I will let it hibernate
We been rolling for some
green)
I gotta take all that hate
Turn it right in to love
I could do it all day
But it's never enough
So now that we see that qualnity flawed
My
the album drop
Got no limit
Can't put me in a box
Got no heart it's a ice box
Got no time on my watch
For silly dumb ass lame hoes
I met a bad bitch she demon
the cool in you
Or it'll be a sad love song being sung by Toni Braxton
And I'll dissect you like a fraction
All you wannabe top cat MCs, I'll pop you like
WOKE UP i ain't have no fucking shirt on
Had my daddy pouch cause my name they throwing dirt on
Fina start my day got some music i need to work
out
I'll develop every day of my life and try my best to create some original sounds
This album reveals the parts of my mind, hope you enjoyed, hope
My chain hang like outties
I’m outtie like the outro
Every fives seconds man I drop
Another album
( Verse 1 )
My body donated to this
Cane poles hanging out of a four door window
Bucket full of minnows in the front floorboard
Box full of greasy cold fried chicken livers
A day
that they live.
I'm from a city where kids, keep dime sacks by they dick,
Attached with a strap to they hip, steady harassed by the pigs.
Sold coke,
life I keep right by my side
Photos notes written on a postcard, first kiss way up on the hillside
Shoe box full of all the things in my life I keep
mean
Their fingers and lips are
Just stinking of green always lean
Now they wanna hate on showerman
Rudeboy, you see the hype on
These MCs are getting
the green now, yeah I got the green now (Got the green)
This is experimental, this is not a new profound (Not profound)
I'm trapped in my little box, just
to everyone on this album:
KayelaJ & Eastside Emperor - Scooter Rogers
Thanks to Purple Matters for recording them
Much love to Green Light Studios for
It's a man's world, niggas get played
Another stray
Hope I live to see another day, hey!
I'm gettin' sweated by these undercovers
Who can I trust, got my
unknown fair;
It seemed so sort of opportune, an answer to his prayer.
She flitted sweetly through his dreams, she haunted him by day,
She smiled through
of the rings
Add that shit up that 2 lines by a 3
But I bet i be loaded like glocks on a sting
Only pour red i do not do the green
Only want bread i do
(Fuck all you hoes! Get a grip, motherfucker!)
Yeah, this album is dedicated
To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all
now I’m on the rap scene
Chasing hella green i hope my album sale or
It’s back to selling green
I hope that they ain’t selling dreams and
I can really
know
you could ever look so nice after so much time
You remember those days hanging out at the village green
Engineer boots, leather jackets and tight
surrounded by light
Man this shit dope
Man this shit dope
These bars leave your mouth feeling clean like some soap
My mind is like Pandora's box when I open
that boy in that box
These bullets invest like they playin with stocks
My big brother trippin he servin that rock
Hidin in bushes when we had it hot
stalker
Words thrillin', so real they're chillin', the hit author
Gettin' louder than a shot gun, you don't want none
Rhyme pays was the name of the album
the day when the recipe calls for blackend
Wrong ingredients
Maybe too much herbs and spices
Maybe you got hungry for the wrong dish
Southern greens
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