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Yee yee! We've found 148 lyrics and 181 artists matching check it out main radio mix by william.
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Uh, yeah turn it up, check it out The transition from a young fool Broke, still on his neck, he hung jewels Live his life in the ghetto where guns
that: if Nixon knew Ag' knew! (Check it out) But Ag' didn't knew enough to Stay out of jail What really happened to J edgar Hoover? The king is proud
up six Friday's the Red Alert radio mix Then comes the day that nobody plays that Punishment wish in the crib Time to go chase the dibs On a Saturday
Back Caught you lookin' for the same thing It's a new thing, check out this I bring Uh Oh the roll below the level 'Cause I'm livin' low next
what's up my nigga Check this out you been listenin' for awhile Why don't you tell these niggas What they really thinkin' about When be wrappin'
dont think I'm really getting through Its an automated message Tick tick boom Should i wild on him I could pull out the pieces and break his style on him
here really making out no dime Like you telling me that you can mix that lemon up with that lime Never mind that imma big stepper I been out here doing
pollinated by the "Be" Pac called it the rose that rose from concrete How do you define divine that finds street? "Hip bop," the color of my leaves Not
full of drugs If they like me, tell 'em line up While I sit behind team, point 'em out like a line up [Verse 11: Juelz Santana] Mic check, one two, one
Chinatown (yeah) At your local bodega, it doesn't matter He is DJ Whoo Kid How real is this? How real is this? G-unit radio (yeah) America, welcome
of that bold (bold), New (new) breed (breeding) That extinguishes itself By markings which resemble a Wide tie Directly below the White collar If it's
into a secluded room it seems all safe Man I wait for it one comes by I pull him in Before he yells his neck is already slit The others check on him but
Check 1-2 guns in the air Feds on the case but we don't care Shotgun sits shotgun it's a pair Hanging out the window shooting everywhere You don't wanna
out blowin' up They my pupic care, and pupils still growin' up Sucking mean while the g'ism as it hits the rhythm They want that new style, no money
vile man shout out to j cole But this is lyrical joe Shovels At work Chaley it’s time to burry talks And It all balls down to holes like golf They
gun in the back Twisted barren branches Break up a cloudless sky Time’s running out As the miles roll by When the boys got to the farm house It was
(It's Cosmos Radio) Ayy, yo Ayy, yo, pass that joint over here I wanna smoke one time I got some shit to get off my mind, respectfully, ha Uh,
What then? Can I help? Holdin' it down Check me out, yo The first hundred thousand, I'm fast to go shoppin' Blow stacks, no ho hoppin', my
stayed toe to toe with her vocal gymnastics. She's shocked. And she asks someone, Go get Rob. Rob walks in and she says, check this girl out and we start
and the bando Now it's me and Booka, Ikey, Doodie in a Lambo Switchin' lanes, switchin' lanes, can't switch up on my main gang You will die in the trenches
to take Your grandma out you got to know 'bout shit To talk 'bout shit Why the fuck you think I talk like this? In any hood that you go, it's the same
? Can you feel it? Can you feel it? Can you feel it? Nothin' can save ya I mean crabbin', played out by backstabbin'; I feel like tyin'
you get if you take a welsh boy? Mix in some lunacy, mix in some noise Mix in afliction with music addiction Conviction and friction and leave it
basking in the glory Reading bout the story Only to be seeing bullets flying Realizing who did they hit They never thought they would see it coming Main
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