Lyrics:
to the industry
Let these niggas know how I really feel
I hope there's enough
Ink in this motherfucker
Make sure I got enough v.s.o.p.
Make sure I got enough reefer
I really don't know how to put into words, um
Be able to this and be able to make music and
This is the end of album number five and
Fifteen years
tig-ol-bitties
Before you go and pop that bottom baby
Before you go and get butt naked baby
I know you gotta little baggage baby
Never mind I'mma look past
erupt like the Boston Mara, um never mind
So by the time you hear this, I probably wrapped an album
Y'all better fuck with this shit, I'm bout'a take you
stick by you
All the real ones, all the real ones gon' stick by you
All the real ones, they stuck with you, they gon' stick by you
All the fake ones, they
a damn!
[Chorus]
You might see my on your t.v, but honey, that don't mean a thing,
You see, I'm still that same 'ol country boy, and that's all I'll
of things
Intimate themes made for interesting sixteens
And I was fifteen when I heard Rhyme Goes On
By Eric B and Rakim, my mind grew numb
I was in awe
bet you gne make the t.v.
Leave you up in the parking lot fuck it niqqa you gne see me
I will not be hard to find just look for the lamaborqeeni
I
I feel the Aryan in my blood, it's scarier than a Blood
Been looking for holy water, now I'm praying for a flood
It feel like time passing me by
[Chorus: sample]
Some people get caught up
Some try and get rolled up
Some people... [x9]
[Ol' Dirty Bastard]
Ol' Dirty kickin' your ass..
taking no shit
And we ain't taking no shit
Five am still grinding
Five am up geekin'
Five am not sleeping
Don't know where time went
Don't know where mind
mind when bitches hating
She look and snap
So when you see her, know that she taken
5'5" chinky brown eyes
Look like she Asian
With her hair braided
snake it ate our brains
Injected poison in our veins
T.V. minds hip swing grinds
Faces cracked and filled with lines
Black sun came and changed our name
no drive-by's
We walked over
COB bandana tied to the end of the AR
Iller than they are, rhymes so sick
Give 'em the day off
This is the chaos, Nicolas
from the norms
And soon millions of folk
Records were being sold
By the early sixties, Dylan, Baez, Phil Ochs
Were doing intellectualized copies
spirit and mind
Still fighting for our spirit and mind
We can't stop fighting for our spirit and mind
Multiple stab wounds sticin' thru in the ol
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
fins
You got all the bread nigga, put up yo Benz
Nah-nah, can't do that - Why not? Ol skool trophy
somethin I done worked too hard fo, nigga quote me
taken pictures of that booty
And when them flashes go to flashin' she go to shaking that ass
Faster and faster, big ol' ass just clapping
And when
get out of it
Any and all should fall, many are small should call
Naughty By Nature the creator of all y'all
Show hope, show no hope and can't cope,
the hole
Martin 20 million bucks can't get your pardon
You got the Carter 5 huh? but now you starving
Surrounded by the ghouls and goblins into Robin
You
töte dich mit einem Leisen
Als dein erstes Album kam
Hab' ich aufgehört zu scheißen
Das hier ist keine Blähung
Das ist eine Bewegung
Ich hab' Soldaten
still takin rappin for a joke
A passing hope, or a phase with the rope
Sometime I choke and try to believe
When I get challenged by a million MC's
I
quiker then a {O.G.}
Ferrari and Charli and Jody move like a {O.G.}
Ol' Wizzy and Ronnie is gettin money like a {O.G.}
V-I-T-A and PJ's a {O.G.}
All
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