Lyrics:
a Corvette
Watch your boy blow up in front
Of your eyes: war vet
Give the fans nuttin' but fire
Now they want more of it
E'rybody want my album
It ain't in
Homicidal, vinyl section, where they always found me
By the motion picture soundtrack with Richard Roundtree on the album sleeve
That's my era shit
Musical
count cash for a livin` (beotch, BEOTCH!)
[Chorus]
Now, there was a cool little old fuck
Smoked a little broccelius then we stopped by the burrito
They took her to Elizabeth Taylor to dry clean
The lone seamstress, who was schemin' on Al's Green
You know they shoot for the stars and buck wild
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(Chorus)
Im riding hard in the donk/
Lookin big in
With yellow eyes my green face my pink and white afro
I'm no toy kid your style is made by Hasbro
G'niff gnapp you think you got that real
and buy homes like Larry
I be smoother than Tal, Sharp-ton like Al
When you ballin everybody want to be your pal
No dilly-dally, baggin up the shorter alley
Close with her friends, so I know I'll get by
Potent green got me thinkin' of you no lie,
How many verses before I get bored?
How many cities have I not
Man like me, I've been licked by a truncheon
Sprayed by gas
Beat up, handcuffed, dashed in
A van, been bank-robbed
Had cash in the bank
Man like me, I'm
to Florida City, Opa-Locka
By way to Overtown and look at this city
Open to Grove and the South Miami
Wedwood Highlear, look Eddie, look 'Bana
Some many ice
liquor all night, green juice all day, life's all about balance, listen (yee)
Think before you talk, there might just be some goons around us (ayy)
You
[Intro: Young Jeezy]
Yeah, be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this by the way nigga, some real shit right here nigga
This'll be
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
the Red Monkey Jeans? My shirt was made by Gino Green (Nice shirt)
My jewels was made by David Bling (David) They call me the underground king
Chain bling
I keep on grinding
Until my pockets are fatter than ceelo green
Now I'm back in the hood
Surrounded by fake people I can't trust
Wake up in
mixtapes?"
"I prefer a mixtape... because when you say al- when you say the word album
Motherfuckers like, you know, people like..."
"It's different, they
the noise got too much
To everybody at *** to saggy sags, Godwin tom, DJ musik, wizkid, slim tee
Adonis everybody i want to tell you thank you for being by my
album on their shopping cart
And supposedly now everyone knows waste plan by heart
I gave everybody a fresh start
Cause remember in four people were mad
Lehrerzimmer klopft
Ist es wie Bataclan
Er zielt auf Lehrer mit der Glock
(Ohh No) Albtraum, Geisterbahn
Drive-by Shooting
Wenn sie vorbei in 'nem Chrysler
that's that Green Day
Far from weak, a young black history month
Heralding good news
Mild sauce jumping out my wing tray
House on vinyl, money kinda vital
well
We are some partying mothafuckas"
Tired of these rappers
Tired of these jackers
I'm tired of these dances
By these fucking backpackers
And I'm sick
Tired of these rappers, tired of these jackers
I'm tired of these dances by these fuckin' backpackers
And I'm sick of all these hipsters, I'm sick
don't shoot anymore
My deal got signed so the spirits all up
We shot the album front cover up by the shops
We just wanna rep the manor right, give it
Tiefe in mehr Richtungen, als es gibt
Jemand hat sich in diesen Moment verliebt
Meditation entspannt geb' ich das Ruder aus der Hand
Und lass mich
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