Lyrics:
blunts cigar scent
I'm by myself and niggas run they mouths like auctions
To streets my brother
Fefe's my brother
And we stay on point like a fucking
trust
If ya bands is up
A man in some hand-me downs will
Be like "Hands is up" ante up
If I don't win then my family fucked
And I was told
"Don't hold ya
spent a 100 of that brown paper bag money
It feel good to be young money cash money
Rehab I'm addicted to fast money
I got stacks and rubber bands up
With what you call "alternative"
All your unplugged albums and charity projects
And bands named for inanimate objects
"All the great love songs that
I got liphy by my side, yeah you know that's Brother Man
And Khi go grab the car, from off the carter , seen his other man
You won't Never catch me
be faking I be really hustling, Speero you know he going for the win
Me and my CEO, we on the album we finna go ten for ten
Ain't no nigga that can
it was in poor taste
Blasting is my forte
Not talking about war ways
Oh you dropped an album? I guess that we got some more waste
Back it up, put it in
brother
Gotta get through me to get to him
Gotta get through me before you get to Em
Ain't drop an album yet
Already 'bout to hit a M
It's gettin' spooky
albums and charity projects
And bands named for inanimate objects
But I gotta go now 'cause you just put on "The Wall"
Don't try to phone 'cause I
my bedroom, oh
And I'm 'bout to drop another album full of hits
By mid-2020 you gon' know who Jayden Jesse is!
If you ain't got nothing nice to say
By Nirvana
Memory-y-uh
The first CD I ever stole
From my dad's CD collection
Was an album titled Nevermind
It blew my mind to pieces
Both of us came
blunts cigar scent
I'm by myself and niggas run they mouths like auctions
To streets my brother
Fefe's my brother
And we stay on point like a fucking
of an elite group of people
(Lyrics are swift and strong) never feeble
What we said yesterday will stand by tomorrow
While some chose to borrow
Brothers are
of self-expression
She on call, she collecting
I'm no option, I'm a lifestyle
Driving real slow, you paid by the mile
Got to make these tracks in case I die tomorrow
of self-expression
She on call, she collecting
I'm no option, I'm a lifestyle
Driving real slow, you paid by the mile
Got to make these tracks in case I die tomorrow
My name is Marques...Barrett...Houston.
My mommy's name is Carolyn and my daddy's name is Michael.
And my brother's name is Brandon and my sister is
started pacing in anger by what they did to my brother
Why can't we live in a world where we all love one another
Why them crackers always thinking that
will live forever, my fame will be maintained
Now some can't feel this, and some feel can't that
But all can feel a track that's produced by Battlecat
So
for an R&B album wonderin' my outcome
Want the black triangle
But I'm real with or without one
'Cause I'ma still sport wrinkled Armani jeans
Smokin'
for this
I swear I get it off the love
Louisiana nigga you can tell
By my mothafuckin' grammar
I swear I got 3 hoes with
Me just like I'm Santa
These
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
where I'm from
Lewis Avenue
Okay, now I got a brother by the name of Mad Money Merc
Now he come from NA Rock
I got two dancers, Scoob Lover, Scrap
My girl came back from the gyno
Said she can multiply no problem
So fertile
Oh brother let me get a rubber
Let me get a condom
I just wanna plug her
Will I ever drop a Grammy album?
Will my brothers turn on me like the brothers did Malcom
Will I ever get out of depth
They ain't want to pay me then
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