Lyrics:
You only good as yo last album
You ain't fucking with my worst album
I know you heard me like Max volume
Probably thought I wouldn't pass by you
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niggers with me on a,
So I recommend your fagot ass to walk by, we movin' money
Touch the sky the, the more about the might dollar
Let's keep it real, ya
blast on
No evidence 'cause this shit will be erased
We're in Paul's Chevy deep, with visions in your sleep
The Juice, Project Pat, Lil' Glock & SOG
pil kapòt mwen nan men’m
Dezenfekte wack ak Sulfacol mwen nan men’m
Volume 2 Diasporap euh pil album mwen nan men’m
-(Outro)-
Euh fon ti kanpe
M’pat
like pancake-ahh
Foldin' my cheese like the leaves in my hand rake-ahh
Project Pat-ter
Attracted to dime pieces
I'm dirty southern, French braids,
like pancake-ahh
Foldin' my cheese like the leaves in my hand rake-ahh
Project Pat-ter
Attracted to dime pieces
I'm dirty southern, French braids,
"120" Lyrics By Black Neldy
Intro
Yeeeeaaa!
Palm Beach is back nigga... (Huh)
Mr. Punchline is back nigga... (Huh)
Project Boyz, Si'l Pa Bèl Nou
put an extra lime on my water glass (I'm so sorry)
An hour later here she come by walking past
(I hate to be a pest but my son would love your
Rapping on nigga's shit
This shit too groovy though
Nigga had to get some
Smoking these Backwoods, nigga
Touch the sky on the real nigga
Fig Side, Fig Side
to do with defeats
I turn all of those to motivational musical speech
Oh, and by the way, guess what I'm doin' to eat?
Yup, rappin', who cares about
the blue bills it match the denim
I got this dope ass fade and line up 'round the projects
By Triple H he got heroin hard and haircuts
Dog food (this shit
visions in your sleep
The Juice, Project Pat, Lil' Glock & S.O.G
Lord Infamous and Crunchy Black got them gats to your back
Another sweet robbery another
your money's worth
Unlady like, the new album
Cause mia-x, unlady like, the hardest shit you ever heard
Light it up nigga, huh it's 'bout to drop, real
niggas ain’t on that
I thought that I told ya
Niggas ain’t on it
Them niggas be cap
Going real hard like
Project pat
Got a lil bitch
That I hit
From
Pimpish
Jealous When I Ride By
Got Me Feelin Real Pimpish
Feelin Real Pimpish
Got Me Feelin Real Pimpish
[Verse 1: Lil Wyte]
I'm Feelin Real Damn Pimpish,
niggas in the game
A lotta niggas got two albums I can't explain
How they maintain to keep the same migraines
I can't help it if my brain is supersonic
Mista Don't Play though
Raised in the projects so I pat them pockets
My rhymes be like nines when they shoot off like rockets
Straight to the cranium
threats given by clowns
I guess livin' is prison when you live around clowns
I'm hexed cursed worse I been blessed first
I thought I was abnormal cause I
wicked deams (deamons)
I keep my pistol by my bedside one in the chamber
Preoccupied with homocide my life's in danger
Rollin down the four-five beware
Big mo, project pat and the whole 3-6
Yea I know about them texas boys
Who keep a liter in the cup, and a heater in the tuck
Think the xanax
Man, Project Pat in the house
This go out to all the real niggas out there havin' money
Ghetty green, that cheese, that feddi, that loot
Better
album, Ice Cube, nigga kill at will
Had to balance, Double M is the imperial
Niggas pay respect, they mail it in an envelope
Fucking centerfolds like I
Gettin' rich was my only plan (ayy)
'Cause you can't raise my son and have an OnlyFans (facts)
Project windows was my only fans (yeah)
Take my momma out
Man you hell of a pussy for
The shit you did last night
I could tell you nervous right now by
How you moving your hands right
Yeah please don't fuck
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