Lyrics:
[Kool Keith]
I'll get my manager crazy as hell he'll pull steel
Show these sheisty people the sawed off the pump is real
Then
Uh wassup show these niggas how
The west was won
Yeah if you don't know my name by now
Just call me any rapper, could get it
Any month, any week,
watching
I've already had the neighbors here
Johnny Cash came around and we split a beer
I'm dead and I'm done by the heat of the sun
And I'll rest my
struck this man
Othello while I drink my flask
Man made wreck gone bad
My spirit combined with Johnny Cash
Girl, I don't wanna waste no breath on a lazy
In today's music news: the ever controversial Tupac Shakur has
Just released another album under the alias Makaveli.
Music insiders are running wild
with his head
Bullets kick his back, if he try to duck & run off on his mans
Check me out nigga, I did 25k off like three albums by myself nigga
They
money , why ain’t cash money, Put no cash money on your albums,
Cause you trash dummy,
I know that’s funny, you birdmans bunny,
Here’s my plans buddy,
many niggas, not enough hoes
And some of you niggas, acting like hoes
Stay to myself like loners do
Get high by myself, I'm not in the mood
To politic
lies
Before I place M-60 right between your eyes (Yaips!)
Cause now ya'll got me mad as hell
And all you jealous pens' writing tattle tales
Poppin' down P, I ain't drinking cheap shit
It's G and Too $hort, every bar, gotta bleep it
Album 25 it's the pimp tape
Asked the OG, how long did this
Artist: Sycosis
Album: Find Me When You Wake Up
Song: Sittin Pretty
Written By: Erik Roberts, Kode Knazze
Produced by: Kace The Producer
Recorded:
But shit cash rules
No tattoos my exterior blank but my
Sleeve filled with my heart
And all my past wounds
While dudes out acting like baff
Oons for
Momma's in tha kitchen cookin' that rice
Father's outside shootin' them dice
Brother's in jail, raisin' hell
Sister's on the corner sellin' fruit cocktail
of Pac, a little bit of Bone
A little bit of David in
The Psalms writin' songs
A little Outkast, Johnny Cash and some Pastor
Call it Vice Versa, reverse
it, map it, we can score
it, I need three guns, and a soldier to stand
by the door wit. No bullshit, I loaded up my
lyrics and two shotties
not in attendance
Slow roll by
While I ghost ride
Float so high
On my ghost ride
Ghost ride like Johnny Blaze
And all my homies like Robbie Reyes
Hell
I like to smack her on Her shaking ass
Sometimes I feel she Attracted when she Taking cash
This shit aint real tho Real tho
She probably think im
the sheets with me
Hands down, can't nobody compete with me
I eat filet mignon, I'm a cash cow
I got ten million cash from my last album
I'm just waitin'
Parody of Jackson by Johnny Cash (G. Rogers/E. Weeler), Bexhill Music Corp. (ASCAP)/Quarter Music Inc. (ASCAP)
New lyrics by Cledus T. judd and Chris
being a real you
(Yo, is that it?) Hell naw, nigga, got more to tell
I ain't feel your albums like I swam in Orajel
XL an artist you can't control
Have
speak so well"
Are you the one we look to, the decent Negro?
The acceptable Negro - hell nah
But they say, "These are our heroes"
Uh, Massa used to breed
Chevy Johnny cash take it to the buyer
In the holler we raise hell yeah
Drinking on that rebel yell
Pretty little southern belles popping off them
the facts
You know that l boss up everytime l spit
On God Entertainment trending in the streets
Nation Media Group headed for the peak
Made it by ourselves
Chorus
Played me like a fiddle hearin figaros
Stacking all of this cash but aint comin off tha floor
Where da hell da strippers they suppose be
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