Lyrics:
Goodwill loves me Macklemore than you
I've got flat screen TVs, with skate videos on repeat
All the latest CDs, mp3s, and Beats by Dre
Thank you very
yeah!
[Chorus: Jayo] (2x)
Y'all better tell, 'cause I hurt that nigga
I'll make six men carry and dirt that nigga
Put some bitches all in to work
the moans of Al Capone
Gun POW to the dome
And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge
By the alledged, full-fledged, sledge RZA edge
One dose of my
froze
Like toes on bodies in the morgue
That was put there by the squad
Look here I'm the God on the mic
On the track
Like Arthur Ashe with a tennis racq'
heavy rain
Munwa golu Panadol maka Ihe mgbu kalii there
M n’ekwu the truth e send rom ma a n’eme truth or dare
Anya salu nwoke early
From mgbe anyi
incredible
Released three CD's in three seasons, don't let me catch you
And you shouldn't really speak to me unless I let you
(Wait Nick, come talk to me!
a playback, and a cd disk rack
Making diss tracks and all that we were up in Nynes basement
It was also the first time that I was faced with
That essence no
old fashion shoe
Found his daddy's hat
And he found little Muley and Muley said
They've been tractored out by the cats
They've been tractored out by
Thinking back to a while ago
Middle school in cali
CD player batteries low
Burning CD's
With downloaded music
Off of tha Kazzaa
Before I became Dan F. Man
I
fashion shoe,
Found his daddy's hat.
And he found little Muley and Muley said,
"They've been tractored out by the cats,
They've been tractored out by
definitely fall
Even the stars work success, it's my destiny y'all
Look, I cook tracks I got the recipe y'all
You can't name another cat that can mess with
"120" Lyrics By Black Neldy
Intro
Yeeeeaaa!
Palm Beach is back nigga... (Huh)
Mr. Punchline is back nigga... (Huh)
Project Boyz, Si'l Pa Bèl Nou
the Bronx and never gave a fuck about the Yankees
Open your CD's is the only time you'll play me
Only time you had beef was surrounded by some gravy
I know
definitely fall
Even the stars work success, it's my destiny y'all
Look, I cook tracks I got the recipe y'all
You can't name another cat that can mess with
Weak men rather chill in a geek’s zen
These killas down to tear your limbs off
Colder than wim hof
A send off to the sinners making ends
Then scoffs
of the kill, all the blood you can spill
We'll paint the town red, flood the streets with the dead
We are born from the blood
Made men men by the blood
Undone by
a quarter of my life worth
Every day I'm making light work
So no, nigga I ain't side skirtin'
Man, I wish I could tell ya
In 50 other languages how much I
Yeah
This should be like the double track on the Lp
Watch it actually be though by accident
Yeah lockdown lockdown
Aye, lockdown lockdown hidden
at the top
Before Preme (DJ Premier) learned the art of the chop
This is way before SP's...and MPC's
And long before CD's and MP3's
The game started
Room, in the ass I hear, while
I was locked outside with Paula by a mischievous Patty, and my Then girlfriend Prissy was at
Work as a waitress at IHOP
Sound is foreign
To cats who don't know Warren G
CD's turned to streams
The middle men extortin these
No exportin
The history's important
MySpace
Smaller
Sassoon, chrome tones hear the moans of Al Capone
Gun POW to the dome
And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge
By the alleged, full-fledged, sledge RZA
over money
But I be spending this time to obtain the money, ain't it funny how that works?
Flirting with the concept of proper values
Addicted
the art of the chop
This is way before SP's and MPC's
And long before CD's and MP3's
The game started to bloom and blossom
And masters ready for
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