Lyrics:
drops
I'm kickin' down the door-crushed cool box
Rockin' the bells like a madman
Dissin', event-flippin' the script-but then I made my first $50,000
blown
My adversaries cry like hoes
Open and shut like doors
Is you a friend or foe?
Nigga, you ain't know?
They got me stressed out on Death Row
blown
My adversaries cry like hoes
Open and shut like doors
Is you a friend or foe?
Nigga, you ain't know?
They got me stressed out on Death Row
the music in they ears, they would have lost it
The seventh album by a musician they both revered
First time this planet heard it, let's call it a world
Crank up the volume, what you value lately?
The album out it sounds amazing and production wavy
They love to hate me
It wasn't cause I hung around
did and do shit that's better than new shit (what)
Fit for two clips (what)
The kid is a nuisance (yeah)
Aw man, he's inspired by his own gangsta
ration
Its bad health and industrial sadness
Never helped by tofu franks or sadistic maggots
This addiction is more random
I walk door to door Mormon
now)
Started with a dollar and a dream!
I was fathered by the bastards
Pardon my mannerisms
The Curtiss magnet that managed without the metal with him
Ya By my Kumba linx
The youth grew me
The work I do four em
Add 2 me
Spikes depiction of the Windy City really
Blew me
Coming from A-MC who went to see
did and do shit that's better than new shit (what)
Fit for two clips (what)
The kid is a nuisance (yeah)
Aw man, he's inspired by his own gangsta
And what am i to say?
Wasn't i once on for you?
And what am i to say?
One if by land, two if by sea, three if by chance.
Four for the door, five for
Nigga, mine real
That Rollie you wearin' foolery, nigga
Mine real
I'm selling narcotics, so you know how come
I'm still balling on niggas without an album
of people inspired by rappers
Who do give a shit about the game we livin' in
Shit is ridiculous I have to say this
It should be common sense, I hope these
Oh yeah you know where I'm from
You know where I stay
Nigga, I'm posted in the A
Sittin low in my phantom ridin high
Every time I ride by nigga, I'm
album
Puff Daddy, enough already
Now its P. Diddy still sound shitty
How can your group be called Da Band
No body plays an insterment man
I dont
not see it
But they wind up sellin' they own ass
One album, two album, they gone they don't last
So hold on a minute now, don't be so fast
Knowledge
I do that I'm really being liberated
(Teach)
Let me show the difference
Of these two traditions (Let's get it)
It can be complicated but
Let's go
[Master P talking]
G man, why don't you go on, pass the dank
Let's take a lil' break ya know whatb I'm sayin'
Before we finish this album up
turned and regarded the weather again, then decided on his Spanish guitar. He carefully put it in the case, walked out the door and headed for a quiet spot
points with The girl's parents, Ken and Gloria
My next door neighbors, by taking the group out to dinner at Olive Garden, saying he knew
The head chef
for me
First the one
And then came the two and three and four
Five, six, seven, shots from a MAC-11
Platinum producer killed by haters
Tonight
you before Eve
Ruff riding through the streets in sync with swiss beatz
Two albums in a year making that swiss cheese
I hope you owed your masters you
Take the mushroom cap and throw it back like the hat on a trucker
The sour patch back in action
Out to make your mother pucker
Your favorite two
Good morning
Artist name
Tim Foil
Album title
Death By Misadventure
Song title
FOREVER
APPROVE
REJECT
PUNCTUATION AT END OF LINES
NUMERICAL
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