Lyrics:
write tonight
This type of funk with the flavor like Mike 'n' Ike's
Hanging out wit my niggas, my niggas
The Pack Pistol Posse keep they fingers
don't get in my face
I got a new set of problems
cnd I would be lying if I said I ain't feel a way
Fuck all that shit cuz my n***as ain't paid
We still
Call my Dusk wildin I rapped any time for Black Helicopters
Smash a teleprompter blast in front the Black Sabbath concert
First role hospital nurse blow
you out the pack
And I'll smoke you just like a joint
I be chasin' checks
You a bum n**** stuck up in the trap
Actin' like you snappin, you a fucking
fitted
I walk inside of your trap, did it
Lil' n**** ready to rat, did it
It's hot as hell
New opp pack, bitch what's that smell?
I just slimed yo' hoe
when the album skips
Yeah
You bust the beetle when the car flips
Yeah
Don Cheadle never heard of this
A word from our sponsor
NordVPN, no concert
We hear
decorations breaking up the neutral paint on the walls
The sleeve of a 60s album pressed in Waco is sung by the addicts, straight out of AA
A 3D Buddha scene
locked up with they men and they told. Forever gonna be a rat that shit gon never get old. I done seen some real n*ggas go to war for they fam. And I also
put hands on you
I dig a hole in the desert, they build The Sands on you
Lay out blueprint plans on you
We Rat Pack niggas, let Sam tap dance on you
put hands on you
I dig a hole in the desert, they build The Sands on you
Lay out blueprint plans on you
We Rat Pack niggas, let Sam tap dance on you
shit on your new album or what?
Yeah, I'm gonna kick some of that shit
But ah, partner I don't even fuck with the nine no more half
Man don't you
On m'a dit qu'la vie n'fait pas d'cadeaux
On m'a dit qu'ça m'en voulait alors j'ai plus d'un tour dans l'sac à dos
Et n'parle pas des autres quand
C'est le retour du king
Pro rappeur pro fighter
Aucune de ces tapettes n'est montée sur le ring
Je les attends toujours je suis chaud je suis hami
or black I ain't gone
Judge you by your skin color
A big chopper and it pack a punch
I call it kick stomper
B****, hey, they don't hear me though
I had
dans nos locaux
J'vole, vends du tos ma parce
Que j'perds au loto
La banlieue c'est dangereux
T'as raison d'te chier d'ssus
La police n'y peut rien
Le
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
Stadt
*Rat-tat-tattattattat*
Was für Berlin, du Piç, bleib in dei'm Kaff
Zieh mal dein Waschpulver
Ich rauch lieber Hasch, Bruder
Fetter Beat, dicker
all rats
I see the snakes in the tall grass
Tilt the brim on my ball cap
Pour the Rem in my tall glass
And fall back
Cuz I’m all rap
Freight Train lay
Rockin the tank top, look at my tat (Bitch)
My bites as poisonous as a rat and my pockets fat
If you see me where the hoes at, better believe my whole pack
choppas they blast[00:40.39]Pullin up with the choppas they finna put that little boy in a coffin[00:43.06]Smoking on this pack, n***** I relapse[00:44.88]I
that prey on Dwight Howard and Shaquille
Not them throwback rats they be on showin' on college hill
For real, I think my first album sold five mil'
smoking on ops while counting the gwop
You niggas aint smoking this gas bitch
Niggas be moving to goofy if he want a pack
You know that we taxing
I need
to prison these c***suckers racist
I aint got time for n****s thats on that fake sh**
Rats and them fleas talking thats a plea bargain
I should be in
the pack
No callin' in but that's facts
That nigga a snitch
Logic says that your pack full of rats
My niggas is cut like a scratch
We evil at that
Like a bit
.jpg "The Rat Pack")
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