Lyrics:
they're taking toll
If you've been bad, Lord, I bet you have
And you've not been hit by flying lead
You've not been hit by flying lead
You'd better
and come on through
You know what fuckin happens
Every time I drop an album
And top the charts like I'm Malcolm
And how come a white man rapping
Is seen
Thratt 187 its a homicide
She said Buks scroll up and buy my premium
I told her stream the album hoe..this gas I'm kickin premium
Mommy that's the rapper
been sent this way by you
What am I
What am I supposed to do
Time is passing
Got me thinking
Should've left my phone at home
So I'd be in this moment
you off
Broad, with the cause (yeah) bitch on a mission
Keep them niggas by they nuts while you hoes be dick kissin
Missing the game, damn bitch it's
.O.C.
This is your album, so that means you definitely got to get funky, so run it
[The D.O.C.]
Swinging, singing a brand new rap
On a rhythm concocted by
et d're-biès comme Marc en vrai
Même sans C j'fais des jokes débiles j'suis con sans trait
Fais pêter les cuivres et même un peu d'cowbell
Voix de
et d're-biès comme Marc en vrai
Même sans C j'fais des jokes débiles j'suis con sans trait
Fais péter les cuivres et même un peu d'cowbell
Voix de
[Intro: Dig Dast (Jamel Simmons) {Gold D}]
Yo my nigga Jamel Simmons what the deal nigga?
(Gold D, Dig Dast what's goin down, what's goin down)
j'm'incline, tous les vrais sont vaincus
Aucune balle n'est perdue
Même logée dans ton cul
Délit d'fuite sur ça! Drive by sur ça!
Tise et fume sur ça! Ça sniffe
commit to what you said
Never thought that I’d wish I was dead
Now I’m haunted by the voices in my—
Otherwise they’d be one person
I am one person, and I
and all my fans are feelin it
Bitch got a bad habit, go away with the next I'm cool with it
Back on the grind or back on the mic put that album on repeat
bumpin Ghetto D by P and C and the Shock kid
Cuz most of what's on the radio today is just dog shit
My shit is so cited, I pressed it in braille
Got Helen
went and built theirs from the floor up
How the hell you gon' get me on your album and not show up
How the hell could you slow us
Got by myself nothing
it's ya biggest fan
It's not even necessary to introduce who I am
by now, cuz we're good friends
Remember the letter I wrote, before Atlanta on Up In
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
mixtapes with features
Better than your album
Bounce Master with the Street Sweeper
For you heat seekers and them double
D cup ladies and IG divas
My mixtape
me by my last name
I'm feeling I'm not apart of this
On my momma side
I'm more partisan
It's obvious
Record called Pollard
But I'm talking to Amarionte
Just like the cans I'm bringing in
To my room to decorate the whole thing
I Wrote the title of the album
Ironically
Thinking I'd found my home
Too
that's nice, its holographic
I'm working in the shade
So, I guess it looks like magic
And if I made an album
I just hope it'd be a classic
Life goes up
and diss you
Everyone saw me on the last album cover
Holding a pistol, something far from a
Lover, beside my brother, s-c-o-t-t
I just laugh 'cause no one
shoulder... ? Aw, you're fulla shit, man... ah, listen, by the way, before I go on; did you get those white albums I sent ya with the pencil on the front... ?
talk about my race on the whole first album
But black vs white bullshit was the still the outcome
How come these motherfuckers can't seem to let it go
Next album that you hear
The last from me
Feeling hella eager
To be leaving 2020
Yeah
Dead by Dawn, 2021
Coming soon
Album number two
But for now
I guess
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