Lyrics:
two sides of the same coin, we drink from the sun
We be the left hand, right hand, right man?
But sometimes it seems like we're speaking in tongues so
Clique
Rich Clique
Rich Clique
Rich Clique
Rich Clique
Rich Clique
Rich Clique
Hands in the air all my rich Clique
I ain’t gotta milli wish list
I ain’t
put your hands on your head
Roll the dice that's what she said
Crap out and you'll lose your head
Can't feel nothing
Can't see nothing
In a hurricane
Now it's Yo ass, the Poet is back
Hand cuff yo Bitch, tuck away Yo cash
Just hit the city, shit move real fast
The Poet stay heavy, he eye ball they
don't sell your soul
I've played my hand, lived life to the full
I'm riding the waves of the crap that you deal
Beating the jokers and their corrupt
tape this, yo, you can't escape this
Yo, I planned it out just like a landscapist
Whipper-snapper back up for coming crap up
I plan to trap a MC
This is my life I just live it how I please
Gettin' by with my expertise not on my knees
Just gettin' by
Yeah, yeah, just gettin' by, gettin' by
Yeah
a pub with his lass
Went over and shook his hand, said, "what's up with this crap?"
He said we'd speak later...but we never did
And still to this day I
Hands up, officer don't shoot
Then pull your pants up, promise you won't loot
We may never understand each other, it's no use
We ain't ever gonna
My name, it probably ring like Las Vegas slot machines (talk to 'em)
The MAC by my pelvis in my Helmut Lang (uh-huh)
The shells'll bang, make
that
Facts
Niggas ain't gonna stop us from being around
Niggas cant be cutting the block man
Naah this our block
Yo put your hands where I can see em
drinking, but not in the park, no-ones in the bars, by order of those in charge
2k and no crossing the line, well I'm thinking again, you might be right
This
forever
But as time goes by the people die and as soon as you recognize
That you should have apologized for all the crap you've done
Oh, it's too late
Oh,
that crap on me
Are You searching just to fill the void by digging up the dirt
Had pistols in my hands, had pockets full of Ox
Whole life I been a G, had bitches on the block
Had strippers on the pole, had cocaine in the pot
Got
Oh, fucking corona games
This is a true story
Foundation was awful
Today It finna crap on the bottom
I been up all night to say that’s over
If it
Life handed me lemons
I jump back in the public eye and squirted lemon juice in it
By now you just wish I'd fucking die but I electrify
Get
wake up fine and dandy
But then by the time I find it handy
To rip my heart apart and start
Planning my crash landing
I go up, up, up, up, up
and you know this
But the pussy-ass niggas will
Not show you this
But I don't give a fuck, I'ma make my japs
If not from the records
From jacking or craps
never get to play
I'm hustlin', stayin' out 'til it's dawn
And comin' home at 6 o'Clock in the mornin'
Hand's on my Glock, eyes on the prize
Finger
Encephalopod, summoned by god
Comes out at midnight, stays up til dawn
Encephalopod, mountainous brain
Every thought he has fills him with pain
all that good stuff it'll be allright won't it?
Hey, by the time you've got this lot in your hands, by the way, we shall have been in the studio working
Born a natural loser I can't recall just where
Raised on brew and poker and a dollar here and there
Black-jack hand dealer man you better payoff
shoot ya
And change ya name to DJ I-Got-Beat-By-The-X-Ecutioners
"Yea, yea, y'all know the name" "X-Ecutioners"
"Stabbin' the track with both hands
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