Lyrics:
on the record by saying that
Was probably the best Breakfast
Bars we've had
Yo what is this Bring the Pain
When I spit it so insane
Gotta bring it back again
won't return the call
I could never fall in love
With a member of a record club
You got a great body, but your record collection sucks
I'm afraid
be given to any performers
Songwriters, myself included
Or charities
This album is produced by the legendary host
Of the legendary podcast
Beating
It may sound stupid when I say it out loud
Like I'm just jealous of his silver cloud
He looks so good he drinks diet Coke
He gets his NME's sent by
in Montgomery Village
Back in Maryland I was living in my sister's basement
Then some shit happened, you know, she kicked me out, it was Christmas
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
signs
Still I climb, rockstar, Third Eye Blind (I began to lose control)
I was bored by these albums, so it gotta be time
No reward for the latter, so
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
the East coast fuck took it from me
Fourth album still Jay still spittin that real shit
Volume 3 still sold more records than Will Smith
Can't call this
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
spend shit
Remember that Christmas? We had a wish list
We couldn't afford nothin' but we still get shit
Ironically those were the times I felt
spend shit
Remember that Christmas, we had a wish list
We couldn't afford nothin' but we still get shit ironically
Those were the times I felt
(Baby, you know, you know, you know I need your love)
You cannot find no one better than this
Try to do right by you, but we can't mix, I tried
my name now
Created balance for myself so I can get some things
Made ten albums by the time that I was 17
Y'all paved the way inspired me to become
player in
By the time I flipped the Ben Folds album I was drunk as shit
Threw up a couple pictures on the rusted GE fridge
I'm going back to Philadelphia,
some venom OG right up side of my paper and go bout my business
Shouts to the DJ's that's breaking my records inside of the club like we work for
right
The guy who wrote it, yo, his album dropped last night
My pockets on Slim Fast and Jenny Craig
The same clubs and restaurants that kept me well
[Dr. Dre]
Hey, hey, Snoop, what up? This your nigga, Dre
Hey, man, I was thinkin' I ain't said shit on your whole motherfuckin' album
So check it
right
The guy who wrote it, yo, his album dropped last night
My pockets on Slim Fast and Jenny Craig
The same clubs and restaurants that kept me well
outside looking in
But sometimes you just could set the record straight
To all the spectators
To commentators and haters
Just know me and my family are good
'Zy rollin' with my cateye, deadeye
Ain't afraid to flame a rat up
But I hot out fathom
My album hit the shelves
We hustle for record sales
Hit my
Beep
Dr Dre
Ay ay Snoop whattup this your nigga dre
Ay man I was thinkin' I ain't said shit on your whole motherfuckin' album
So check it out put
Beep
Dr Dre
Ay ay Snoop whattup this your nigga dre
Ay man I was thinkin' I ain't said shit on your whole motherfuckin' album
So check it out put
fuckin' hoes all fiends
This album gon' go hard praying platinum in this bitch, your bitch a whole ass whale Lookin' like moby dick, huh (Bitch)
Lets go,
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