Lyrics:
can make a hundred beats and then proceed to spit 'em right through
Jaws drop they can't believe, they get surprised that it is a white dude
And now I
too, her sister Keesha and Sue
Her cousins, aunts and nieces start walking in by two
Like who's trying to keep they composure now
I'm feeling it can
of the story
Niggas wanna hear a nigga chat like it's Maury
Fuck that, you niggas better bask in my glory
They call me to slide through the store cah I'm so
intertwine like French braids
And I can't fight the feeling like one way
When it comes down to this gangsta shit and gun play
For the loot, we compute it
that voodoo doll
I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all
I'm standing by the window where the light is strong
Ah they don't let a woman kill
me
Girl we could do better
We could do better
I mean you could do better
Better with me
Do you love it when I need a lil more of you
When I can
by two
And there ain't nothin' you can do or nothin' that your brother can do blood
Gona remind u you like me
Its not cos i tweet shit on da nightly
money for them wack videos, that's funny
When I see 'em on the telle I feel like pausin' it
You can see the passion drippin' through my pores
Really
I'm in it people ain't rapping hard though
To The point of making music like I do it be the move and I just sit back
Travis you went hard on that track
't hear what they say, like I answer my phone in a bad spot
Riding with some right now that cancel a nigga like Travis Scott
It's a shortage on real niggas,
a ostrich
That's not real shit that's counterfeit
Me and my whole gang are some Misfits
Serving loud gas and it smell like armpits
Can't trust a bitch I
dig it?
There is no girl in the whole world
That can love me like you do - ow!
Tell 'em bout it, Watson
My baby now, when she walks by
All
the tower of song
Now you can say that I've grown bitter but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor
shit like “I miss you”
clways keep it 100, to me it's really that simple
cddicted to Latinas and Filipinas,
cnd pretty face red bones with some ghetto
To whom it may concern
[Chorus]
Why you ain't call me?
You know I'm the hardest, you know that my art is applauded
Why you ain't call me?
I
shots and got money out her ass
Now you can see me in the coupe like what
Next time I'll hit her in that G5 truck
I've got the magic stick, I can go
it up like a remix
Hitting waves like a sea-ship, get above like I'm cheating
Give a fuck about speaking to a nigga that's in sheep skin
To a bitch
feelin' in pain
Now it's like I'm on my Sepeher
And I'm feelin' them games
Been through hell and back, made it
It's a wrap
Can't keep a nigga down, down,
race, it's Apocalypto
The industry's a target, I suggest these labels get low
On top of that, this track is cracked like burnt brillo (damn)
Consider me
Hey, check it
What we have here
Is another one
The remix (ladies and gentleman)
Orchestrated
(You don't have to worry)
By the Puff Daddy
Got me fucked up in the head, I mean woah (woah)
Should've seen the way shorty took it to the floor
Can you do that on my dick is what a nigga wanna
a toast, I'm supposed to lay your body down,
I spread the money round give it to ya doggy style,
See this the remix bay I might just put that tonguing
Looking at
All this rappers Iv been eating
Even if I was 2 pac by now I would have pot belly
I’m a shot (short) caller
It’s like I’m on the phone with
Yeah oouuu yeah yeah yeah
Ima boss I go get it by any means yeah
I guarantee that my niggaz is gone eat yeah
Dirty money but you know we whippin'
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