Lyrics:
some Rick Owens
Imma go shop at Chanel
I'm finna get my stick loaded
And clock in my hotel
Better hide your bitch
She wanna stay with me but I don't know
you on I.G
I'm like son, in real life, people actually follow me, yeah
I'mma keep it a buck
I'mma keep it a bean
Ain't bout my niggas or handling
and all the niggas you claim to
Came were trained by the weak
Double up ya power
Gotta compile it to fuck with me (Ah)
Made it clear like a squeegee
didn't sign me
You know what happened, it was some A&R's that fucked with me though
But then like the heads, it'd be somebody at the company that'll say
of the Mag’
Tucked in the Dior, Dior bag
Big boy jewelry, unh
Stones a hundred thou’, are you kiddin’ me?
Coulda bought an island, no kiddin’ me
Coulda bought
to the top now tell me are you ready
So AlexdaKid and KidinaKorner checking me out daily
My latest album making waves already
Check me out I’m Number One in
with
Me sitting next to her
Nicki Minaj has fallen asleep
We are at Barclays Center in one of
The dressing rooms, which are low
Low beneath Brooklyn
a couple comments
On some f*** you pay me should of did it on your conscience
Yo hey
Play The Album
Yo
Get mine
My God
We all Gone missing
Yo hey
Play
have died
Decency defied
Music and Words by Jack Owen
Decency Defied from the Cannibal Corpse album Wretched Spawn
Grand, Skillz, Hip Club Grove, Shy Love and Buck 65
Jo also taught me how to make beats on the sampler
I bought from SIXTOO and around '99 I started
and the gang on the rise
Now me and my gang going up
Hit my phone but I don't give a fuck
Told these niggas to keep it a buck
Now its up at the top and its stuck
the line-up
First album, the EP was No I.D
Last album, the executive producer is me, I'm set free
Sayonara
So the crazy shit is right, like, when we was
ice on me I feel like I’m gonna shiver,
This shit real life, this shit not Instagram, I got no filter,
You can tell these n****s snakes, just by how
who you are
Want an autograph bullet you can call me shootin' star, nigga
I'm makin' the murda shit to kick you in your ass a bit
380 puckin' up
like a ground out
Catch me posted on the corned like a time out
Play the game by the rules never foul out
Bunch of monsters with the gang lay something
like a ground out
Catch me posted on the corned like a time out
Play the game by the rules never foul out
Bunch of monsters with the gang lay something
to me, don't come to me with beef
Take your jewels and your Jeep
Boom, boom, let that ass sleep
It's gettin' hectic, niggas run, quick
Buckshots are
black cops in cars profilin
Hardcore kids in the West got stress
In the East we are chased by the same black beast
The black cop is the only real
for each man (Damn)
Then I scrapped that, 2 albums are now shelved
A personal hell completely composed by myself (Mmm)
But this one's workin', dropped
shermhead
And no-one can tell me any different he's
My fucking favorite ever
I love him so much he's a shermhead
I produced a song off his first album
I
Owens was my lead guitar player
And ol' Hag once wrote a song about me"
I wish I could see Bakersfield
Where the oil wells are pumpin'
The oranges
I hate the thought of bein a predictable bore
Once you get used to me you won't love me no more
The final soliloquy of the internal Paramore
What are
What she wanted
The second album
Twelve precious melodies
Worth listening
Hope you enjoy them
Like if it's sung to me
Listen to twelve great
an astronaut
Rick Owens on my feet, uhh they were self bought
No one taught me beats, uhh I was self taught
I got all my needs, uhh I won't self rot
I got Off
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