Lyrics:
putrefied bones im finding in the wet dense mud underneath homes he's residing
Break in defense walkers by the fence like dawn of the dead the rochester
roadrunning in this whip like I can't even park
Yall saying saying yall some dogs, That's cause all Yall ever do is bark
I put some blues on his head, now he
different, I'm going up passing you by
Looking for better sense and more control of myself I relapse but still yet I try
Never mind that I'ma still get a sack
[Lil' Boosie]
Ugh! We dropped again on you bitch ass, niggaz! (Laughing)
Every album like a bird!
If you buy Trill shit
Then you buy that real shit!
mad
Oh yes you guessed but not by by choice
Ursula came and stole half of my voice
Don't you act deaf see I still bring the noise
See my flow 5'11" but
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
bridle we did make, a roan horse killed by leg-bone break
He's horsehair rope now; horse-meat steak, we cleaned him to the bone
Well these gentlemen
I'm still in beast mode
Ayo, if Superman was black, would he still be a hero
Or a zero, or a villain, killin' competition motivated by millions, such
One to remember: the path of the lone walker
He who is destined for endless triumph
First to the trove of mystic wonder
Pursued by vigilantes hot on his
Give me something then I might be amused
I'm a mystery, this is no Blue Clues
Find a mystery like Scooby-Doo
Talk behind my back, I might bring my
he fucked me out his drawers he dissed me"
All this is calculated, the Batman with a black hand
Mafia money, killas who rock tans(?)
Bone
David loved his wife he found it easy to do, all the love saved for children he spent on Sarah too
She would cry for the babies who never made it
right
Come on, boys, whoo
This is so weird having my dad on a song right now
Considering he's 50
Uh, 47
I think he's gonna make a comeback album
In so many bourgeois homes Van Gogh's sunflowers radiate from the walls,
Yet he lived in utter misery, condemned by those very same people.
Why is it
at the mall, shoot hoops too
Whole crew rockin' suit's made by Bruce Bruce
And my wood wheel is a blue spruce
(It's a blue spruce)
Damn, okay, RiFF, feel me?
with his bike
And he's got Guthrie running in his bones
He's the hobo kid who's left his home
And his Beatles records and the Rolling Stones
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
Yo, before my grandfather died he told
Me: "if you ain't gon' shit
Get off the pipe" and I ain't know what he
Meant right then and there
But I guess
tones, I roll my bones around the block and back
Silently he's reading
The Keeper of the House
How I'll never be him, oh, how
Never really knowing
If he
[Krayzie]
This track is tight you should be clapping your hands
[ clapping your hands] 4x
[chorus]
As we ride by the end of the night
You will
can feel it in my bones like them 8-0
Let me in that convent like they Gwynevere
Codeine dripping off of that Wockhardt chandelier
I need a bad bitch
walkers, boys in blue
the army on the fly
And all of this and so much more
when a horse came riding by
And all the worlds so full of rage
No time
moves ahead
Sometimes I'm ahead of myself
I'm not God by then just
Tryin' to better myself
Cuz I done seen niggas turn
Paper planes into 'jects
Cuz this
a Rollie and a 2Pac herringbone
Midwest kids damn near all we used to hear was Bone
Two family flat, mommy and aunt used to share a home
Boy, I'll rip
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