Lyrics:
lookers
Sniff sugar by the gram
Mistook her for the classy
Type in high demand
Denied the man that tried his hand
To get a stab at it
Teases and taunts him
together
In a love that's just begun
By the time this night is over
Two hearts are gonna fly
To the heavens above
And we'll get closer
And closer and closer
mi nuh Mr Barnacle
Inna di studio man gone little
With some guinness and some chronic too
Man a genuine article historical chronicle
Dem waa wi life
Yeah
I'm a waitress
I walk around all day and see so many faces
Everybody having the same conversation
People at the door chilling on the wait list
for ignition
I'll be aiming high yah
I'm going climb
I be tryna get mine
I know it's time
Man this journey be a long walk
With cross roads
But I cannot
there's one left
Only the earth would thank me later
With a breath taking sunset
(man, I'm just a bum)
Zip that waterfall around your skeleton
Tell it
to getting poisoned by the ones that say to avoid it
This is me this is life and its dangerous
You know i stay high man I'm flying with the angels
Catch me in
to mention
Can't question the Man above all His plans have perfect timing
Can't question the Man above all His plans have perfect timing
Can't question
and she shakin like she workin
Look - mami movin right, man I'm likin how she twerkin
Man she do it all night, like she ride with a purpose
And like
into a man
Losing Love is just a feeling I can't stand
I been running for a long time
I been running for a long time
Conversations talking building
Two severed human legs that belonged to
a young man with dark skin. Shiny black leg hairs glittered in the
dim streetlight. The legs had been forced
man, niggas be trippin'
In the streets without a gat? Nah, nigga you're slippin'
If I'm trippin' on The F with weed on my breath
Original hustler with
man, niggas be trippin'
In the streets without a gat? Nah, nigga you're slippin'
If I'm trippin' on The F with weed on my breath
Original hustler with
You see the little silences are all you need to get by
Sometimes it just doesn't make it right
Tired of these conversations that fade away
Into
U.S.S.R.
P.L.O. style got thrown out the car
and ran over, by the Method Man jeep
Divine can't define my style is so deep
like pussy, my low cut fade stay
J5
Man you're guilty, so you're guilty, by association
Man you're guilty, so you're guilty, by association
Now you're guilty, now you're guilty,
from
That 30-round clip, fuck all that playin'
You know where I came from
Chevy Impallas and Regals, man
23 Bricks in a speaker, man
You know where I
nickname afta dat is money
Let mi give dem di whole story, yeah, ya, ya
As a juvenile in di ghetto were growin' up
Their big guns wanted boy have
Conversations always better after midnight
Conversations always better after midnight
Conversations always better after midnight
Now I gotta tell the truth now
Gun deh deh and di youth dem a buss shot
Dem mek sure drugs deh deh and wi baby a bunn crack
Surely the old time living a come back
Two wild juvenile mi
Conversation with Fernando
He said he got it for the 9 doe
They was 12 but they 9 doe
My niggas ain't going for none though
Conversation with
represent 'til I fall under the dirt boy
I run wit' Juvenile, BG, and Turk boy
And we the hottest, of the hottest
Of the damn hot
In helicopters with my
Hey yo, Pooh Man get your lyrics together
For this next song, man
Ant man, I gotta fire up this dank first
I ain't fuckin' with nothing till I hit
was so enticed
By niggas like slick money and ice
We figure prison it should come with the light
Along with losin' your life
And there were no way
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