Lyrics:
grassroots resistance to private prisons
Won't lie
Kinda been waiting
Happy Tara taught me the art of documentation
Turned it to an album
It's been 2 years
alright.
Cause I'll be spittin' this game to you all damn night.
When I was 3 years old,
Straight pimp game I was told.
My daddy sent me to pimp
was 3 years old,
Straight pimp game I was told.
My daddy sent me to pimp school.
In this man's world, you can't be no fool.
If a pimp is what you
See you pray for mud
When you climbing out the pits only up from this
You late as hell I see you straddling the fence
Should've been my bitch 24/7
but it's so far to go
And since, ain't none of y'all motherfuckers helped Z-Ro
I never had love for a bitch, I'm about my money
Even if they murder
Hell yeah nigga, ay yo
[Z-Ro:]
Remember me, when I use to write my rhymes in class
At Dick Dall Middle School, all them niggaz would laugh
Peter Pan
Called her in five years, got a pool the size of Nevada's Hoover Dam
Ignorin' the fact that your album performed worse than my feature can
Give
Say she a fan, say she want cuff me but she cannot fuck up my plans
Bitch I'm the man, I do what I say and I say what I do no pretend
Deep in
of the streets
The makings of a real MC, yeah, bitch
So just abide by what you ride by
'Cause we abide, by what we ride by
Just abide by what you ride by
'Cause
of the Horsemen
Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman
And we abide by, the code of the streets
The makings of a real MC (C...C...C...C) yeah bitch
rich, black, trap nigga
With a fuckin' 7 figures
A huncho on my wrist
Pull up in the whip with the shit and blow your bitch a kiss
All of this ice
Bitch, I just passed a blunt to Ben, now I'm crazy
How the fuck you 60 years old and don't got a baby
I'm driving a Bentley, try keep driving a Mercedes
[Lil' Boosie]
Ugh! We dropped again on you bitch ass, niggaz! (Laughing)
Every album like a bird!
If you buy Trill shit
Then you buy that real shit!
I'm able to say fuck regular weed, I get hydro by the bag
I'm the same nigga white tennis shoes, blue jeans and a white t-shirt
24/7 all day
But something told me, write this down and just speak from the heart
It's been fourteen years since I found you all alone in the dark
But losing you
and her address
But I know that that's your bitch
Don't tell me that's your whip
The same whip in which I lashed your chick
You rets when I do skets
I don't
1995 and Compton's still up in this motherfucker
Yeah, this album's dedicated to all you real niggaz
But most of all it's dedicated to you bitch ass
of these days gone be out there
It's a bitch took a ball, ball and parlay
Until we make it we mash together
Ooint seven by the nine we blast together
of these days gone be out there
It's a bitch took a ball, ball and parlay
Until we make it we mash together
Ooint seven by the nine we blast together
must be crazy, nigga
Onе song for my deluxe is all I need to do
These puppies barkin'
They done bit off more than they can chew
My album just dropped
I'm
and you go end up hurt
Thirty go by a new bitch gone twerk
Thirty go by a new blick gone burst
Thirty go by a new wrist gone work
Thirty go by a new click
Okay, good day, this is our Christmas part of the album
And you can play this at your Christmas parties, uh
Or to yourself on Christmas Eve, if
still sleep like I ain't blowin' horns
This female look like a male like is somethin' wrong
Nah still suck my dick bitch nothing's wrong
This whole
your title is seven
Takin' out your four man crew makes eleven
By the twelfth well I'll go for self
Rockin' New York like no one else
You can
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