Lyrics:
shit
But then she told me that was from an Arctic Monkey song
I said, what album is it on
She said, it's on the one with
Why'd you only call me, why
nun left stop me
Struck by the lightning nun left shock me
Giant or maybe a saint I'm shockey
Spit how I live this ain't no copy
I know your spirit
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
lay back and let my mind start to trip
By me D-Loc, call me stoner of the crew
If your fuckin' with my stash then I'm fuckin' with you
Saint Dog's got
ain't yours
I know y'all poor, y'all broke
Y'all job just hanging up clothes
Step to me, get burnt like toast
Mothafuckas, adios, amigos
Hop, hop,
ain't yours
I know y'all poor, y'all broke
Y'all job just hanging up clothes
Step to me, get burnt like toast
Mothafuckas, adios, amigos
Hop, hop,
at the same spot over by Seaside, yeah
Saint Feddy, E Buddha representing from the East side
Seen a lotta shit while we chillin by Seaside
I said it all
a bike
Lemme change your life
Baby come and slide by slide by slide
I could do you right don't waste my time
We'll be taking private flights riding all
your space
But forget your face, I swear I will
Saint Bart, Saint Bulla anywhere I chill
Just bring wit me a pair, I will
I can see us holding
at the lowest point of your life
And thats okay
Thats why for this album there is no specific niche
I did not limit this album to one sound bc I don't perceive
in Saint Tropez
Sex on the beach
I can't be waiting for you
Babygirl I got too much to lose
Still gone rock your body
Baby let me ease your mind
We
comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I put them by your gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
With your sheets like metal and your belt
comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I put them by your gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
With your sheets like metal and your belt
niggas
Flow like dro, I pull then clip it or mix it with some moet then sip it
Then turn around and flip it, shit on your whole album wit a snippet
Yeah, for your eyes only (for your eyes)
For your eyes only, for your eyes only (for your eyes)
For your eyes only
Hey, niggas be dying
The Sinner and the Saint
Have mercy us sinners can't all become saints
Heaven's gate is open I can hardly wait
Thought you'd walk with me every step
Verse 1: Po3
I’m motivated by the notion of being overrated or under-appreciated for greatness
I know the matrix, with the numbers on the screen I
Man, like-
Why is Lipton iced tea too good man
Ah
It looks like you lost another one
Okay, quick sit I'm going to run this shit
Making another album
Every word that you hear, I invented
I've been living like a king
I ain't worried 'bout a thing
I've just been bumpin' that, this why your girl
to a user (Nah)
That's my position, opposition can't maneuver
That's a clue to why I'm
Sittin' in position to manure (Pfft)
No Kamasutra, get your karma, you
martyrized saints in torment
Abandoned saviour of dismal illusions, no one minds your screams and tears
The bloody thorns pierced your cursed brows as I
The club
Why
To party and have some fun
What is it that,
Can come and take away all your stress, tell me
Music
No further questions, you have passed my
some goals that I had to defend, yeah
If you really a shooter, why talk on computers, my nigga let's link then
They say they want beef then when I pull
never played fair, yeah
Far from classy, walk real nasty
Talk real sassy, why you frontin'? Come smash me
I can't do it baby-girl, your man might
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