Lyrics:
fuckin' way
But here I am, workin' in the studio
And your album ain't out because you're movin' slow
By the time you make one I'll be on ten
Hit the studio
I love it and I need it, I feed it
Yeah, it turns me on
Alright, hold tight
I'm a highway star
Oh, my soul
Nobody gonna take my car
I'm
My mama gave me up when I was four years old
She didn't destroy my body but she killed my soul
Now it's cold 'cause I'm sleeping in my back seat
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
them other niggas weak
You a survivor no one liver got the job done
A son of a gun died by your daddy gun
Never imagined
You not being by my side
Never
and shove it up your ass
Followed by the "oohs" and "aaahs"
Your foolish pride gonna fuck around and put you on the loosin' side
Who got bodied?
Nigga, you
Every kiss goodbye, pride!
Daddy is home.
Yeah, cre you ready to choose?
Kiss my face goodbye.
But mommy, don't cry.
Daddy, don't lie.
Oh my, this is
the strong survive
Fuck a 9 to 5 let me work the graveyard
Got soul till I die like I'm Ray Charles
Fuck your rapping bitch I'm back, daddy's home, take a nap
Daddy was the eldest of ten
And my mama was an only child
She must've represented back then
The part of him that couldn't go wild
She was free
styles like the hottest new dancers
See, I let y'all live to stack a LITTLE paper
Be glad I pushed my album back, I did y'all hoes a favor!
[Puff Daddy
down
Down
Neck so icy tho
Yeah I changed my prices hoes
Doing ten for a show
Somewhere up in Idaho
Hell yea bitch
They dont even know im hot
Just wait
Go, why don't you just go
Go sing
Go do an Afro-Soul album
Like everybody else?
And I was like you don't understand
I'm burning inside
I'm burning
clear yeah yeah
I ain't worried bout the time won't let it pass me by
No fear yeah ten years yeah bring on ten years
Me and wifey finally working all
sounds
Trust me, I know
I've been writing almost 10 years and nobody knows
To extend to the public a private piece of your soul
In hopes that this
write this shit down (it don't matter)
'Cause 10 years from now, we on top
And we ain't never gon' stop
All money in (watch)
This album marks
rock a few with my brother Kenny
>From twenty-thousand to ten I'm housin
African culture is what I'm arousin
In your consciousness, soul
sweet as the apple
Don't fall asleep on your dreams
Don't sell your soul for your masters
Don't let that whip be your master slave master
God don't matter
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
intention
And the ones I love to see my ascension
I've been in deep thought for a minute
Can't wait to tell my kids 'bout how their daddy did it
Always with
But ain't no hope n him
Den Layed him on that table
Went to cuttin
They den opened him
By time they stiched him up
That boy ain't even have a soul
Ratin latent, and perpetratin
My album's love mics, tough like dirt bikes
You get frantic, New York City, run and panic
California, I switch
It's not usual, the game be, all up on some South shit
Straight west coasting, you can tell by my outfit
Red 'nati fitted, "Blood in, Blood out"
what?
Skirr donuts i`m (soooo serious)
(Mack 10)
I don`t talk about it
I be about it
I drive by
& bust heat about it
In the front page you`ll
I'm with my demon twin, demon in my blood and in my soul, pass that heater twin
AP on my wrist, my diamonds dancing, but you know that twin, ay, ay,
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