Lyrics:
Baby Jesus, though you already know it
You already know it
Aesthetic on the track, boy baby Jesus
You already know it
Shoutout to you if you
slugs boy
Fuckin up ya airwaves and nerves
Fuck a thot ho like a runway I swerve
Boys broke these days but still tryna splurge
I left the coke game but I
When I hit the club all the girls show me love
While at the bar, got drank by the jug
In the v.i.p with the chicks and the drugs
It's the T.I.P,
a new hot track
Put me on the beat I don’t even need a feature
You was always at my games sitting in the bleacher
I need me a girl like Rhi Rhi
Yeah, it’s
on a track
Keeping it G ain't nuttin, you ain't gotta like it cause the hood gone love it
You ain't gotta like it 'cause the hood gone love it
Watch a young
The only way to find this dusty track
Is to let me be your guide
When the dusty track ends the homestead begins
With two enormous gum trees standing side by
to feature a rap artist
But most of the rappers
They don't like to rap about politics man
They only want to rap about cars
Girls, alcohol you know
And we
own yet
I talk shit but I own it
Ride my whip like I stole it
I stay high boy so lit
So nice when I'm rolling it
You know I condone the shit
That's good
"But oh, the world, it held me down
It weighed like a concrete prom queen crown"
No one thinks a pretty girl has feelings
No one gets
selling you sold (What), I don't know the cost (Aye, yea)
Had run it like a track race (Track)
Know LLG we in first place
me and the squad we gon' make it
handouts
You wanna live this life girl, you gotta show out
I don't wanna stop, I don't wanna stop
Feelin' like
it but, baby, don't stop it (nah)
We can do it like Chris Brown, girl, and get it poppin'
Man I'm a pro (yep), look I'm far from a rookie (that's
it but, baby, don't stop it (nah)
We can do it like Chris Brown, girl, and get it poppin'
Man I'm a pro (yep), look I'm far from a rookie (that's
first
Mixtape Young Broke and Infamous damn
That's like 2010 and
I titled the track "Young
Sinatra" And that was
The birth of all this shit so, thank you
it, I'll do it, He gives me Windex and a toothbrush
Now I'm scrubbin the toilet like, FUCK MY BOSS and HE STINKS!
I'm asking my girl to marry me, fuck
Cutlass, bring da ruckus and ya looses ill
Keep it goin' by, I keep flowin' the same
And get open like the pussy on mystic rain
Showin no shame
Tabasco sause all over the track
That nigga Roscoe'll boss all over the track
He make the "Girls All Pause" yeah they open to that
Now who you know the flow
studios who still give niggas favors
On the mixin' and mastering, puzzlin' and
Plastering the tracks together on tapes, C-D's, wax or whatever
This is for
The Uz'll have ya shakin in the club like the bruck up, What's Up
With these wannabe Lloyd Banks's, toy gangstas
We need to do a remix 'cause there's some
page
Got the rap game by its fuckin ankles and legs
Yellin please stop, while Im bustin aimed at its face
Who you know
Who can do it like this, they
at dinners with fake friends
Earthly economics early; elementary; embryonic
Endocrinologists lie boy, blaming that thyroid
Fat Boys victim to a ploy shocking
of Gin
You woke up in hell gettin sexed by Marilyn Manson
You lie, you deny, pass me the microphone
I guess like Eddie Murphy you was givin 'em a ride home
That's good
"But oh, the world, it held me down
It weighed like a concrete prom queen crown"
No one thinks a pretty girl has feelings
No one gets
Like that (Like that), like that (Like that)
(Come on)
Girl you know I like that
I know what she want I'm finna give it to ya
(Give it to ya)
Anything
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