Lyrics:
(Curtis Wright/Jim Collins)
Another fourteen hour day, crisis solved deadline made
I came home like always, tired and beat
Threw dinner in
(Low tide)
High five, high five, high times
Hot box in the sixth speed
(Skrr-skrrt, skrr-skrrt, skrr-skrrt)
Order birds, need a ten-piece
(Brr, brr, brr,
to begin?
And I fight off incoming slumber
In hope something new will come there
To break up sequences of numbers
Counting down the time that they’ve got
drives a sports car
To the Warner Brothers ghost
He used to live in England
Now he loves the coast (chorus)
Some times a friend comes by
To sing
the 40
He gone get rowdy
And ya don't want that shit
Cause it's gon' be naughty, by nature
Fuck a player hater
I'mma come through
And you know I'm down
the 40
He gone get rowdy
And ya don't want that shit
Cause it's gon' be naughty, by nature
Fuck a player hater
I'mma come through
And you know I'm down
but don't really fuck with the taxes
I come from a different bracket, break it down by the fraction
Halves, wholes, and quarters, bath robes and water
Lightin' up a Cuban cigar down Collins Ave
This that type of shit
Saucy, yeah, you know this that
It's that light that Cuban cigar in the Wraith
and go head up
Then I slam them asses and lyricaly
Lyrical by suprise they then avaporize
See them they don't understand a system in judicial
The ICP is
up in the sky
Man I'm feelin kinda high
A nigga try and try
Imma leave him in the sky
Countin so much money
I can't even watch the time
Bitches
know it's us
One hit is like "The Notebook"
By time it end you be chokin' up
I'm 'bout to knock 'em down
I'm 'bout to pull the trigger
Feelin' like
Long Live Yambo
Time goes by, puffing on la
Hoping that it get me by
Got a nigga going brazy
It got a nigga going brazy
Said, time goes by, so pour
wanna trade with me
I'm the only one with this faith in me
Summer come soon by the lake we be
With the spliff indeed
You get lost in the ways of it
sexually
Knew a bunch of Radio Raheems, rest in peace
Four finger rings, big as brass knuckles
Haters walk by, try to stab you if they hug you
Lady
about 9
I'm thinkin bout 18
Man its my time
To pop up on the scene
And show my fuckin neckless
Come down the boulevard, straight up wreck it
In
‘T.I.N.A.’ - written and performed by Collin Gibson
VERSE 1
Walking backward through my city
Looking backward, what I'm missing
Sun ain't shining,
tried to dip me
Balled out in bingo halls, reported skied out in jury duty
Judge Judy, big groupie bitch blew me, Beigen rush Cuffies
Blast the last
tried to dip me
Balled out in bingo halls, reported skiied out in jury duty
Judge judy, big groupie bitch blew me, beigen rush cuffies
Blast the last uzi,
shoot the gun
Look, this shit's semi-automatic, and I got two of your girlfriends waiting upstairs in the attic
If you don't come tonight, they just might
When I'm on the block bet I make em all bounce
Watch em all flock, now they all come around
When I'm on the clock, bet your boy gets down
Yeah, I
the DOA's, I done did the KOD's
Every time I'm in that bitch, I get to throwin' thirty G's
But now I'm hangin' out that drop head, I'm ridin' down on Collins
shit by accidental
Slidin' down Collins Ave, she gave me Shirley Temple
Crayola color money, it was made without a stencil
that comes between us, right?
Stumble on somebody and you thinking it's a
Lucky run-in, won't be long 'til you kissin', huggin'
Now you think it's time
rush 2
In the city of lights, heartbeats ignite
As the clock strikes twelve, we come alive come alive
Lost souls seeking thrill, adrenaline's high
We're
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