Lyrics:
suck it bitch gimme dat cerebral
Cause we'll be after ya in any given season (where ya at?)
So say your prayers serve ya purpose like a deacon (go
Erick Sermon, Redman keep keep it on
K to M Keith Murray keep keep it on
Keep keep on, ya don't stop
Keep keep it on, and ya don't stop
Keep keep it on,
in the work
Can't even trust the deacon he be selling in the church
World moving real wicked it been looking like the end
These young niggas want
than the deacon 'cause it's hard to fight the urge
It's hard to live and serve when you on the Devil's turf
Sell your soul for the low with no sense
things I won't do, live and die by a code
Cover art come from Poland, my bitch Puerto Rican
I'm really the reverend, the rabbi, the deacon
Collateral
And Poppy
Big L
They got Proof
Tah and Swipey
Don't tell us it ain't
Because it might be
The government paid to
Get em
Spike Lee'd
X'd out like a raver
In
on the
Barbwire
Why I write it like that?
Cause it must be
My Essence is Rare
My BACKYARD funky
We got a JUNKYARD band
We GO GO like dat
You can't mute DC!
We don't
Snow bunny looks like she from Texas
But whole other side of the globe
I'll truly know that I made it
When I been on the front Forbes
Niggas in Paris uh
Napoleon murphy brock (vocals)
Bob harris (vocals)
Johnny "guitar" watson (vocals)
Harry: (to thing-fish)
Anything you say, master! take me, I'm yours!
on the moon, smoking like I'm Neil Armstrong
Put the blunt in your face & now smoke it up
And tell that bitch don't choke she gotta toke it up
One time, one time
on
[Da Brat]
Each day I come in it's always somethin'
Don't stress me I'm paid like Phil Drummin
I pop like ten Crist'ies a day
In the spot
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls
I'd like to welcome you inside
This big Snoop Dogg
Calvin Harris experience
You dig? Haha
Welcome
, a Damn Drill
Ian wearing no fucking heelys
But ima slide tho
Don't even think
You gone even fucking
Try it ho
Yea I'm Memphis
& You
I gotta close the window before I record
Cause New York don't know how to be quiet
Coogi down to the socks like I'm Biggie poppa
Keep your girl
I gotta close the window before I record
'Cause New York don't know how to be quiet
Coogi down to the socks like I'm Biggie poppa
Keep your girl
something good
But I shoulda had another mechanic under my hood
If you see me walking by you, boy, don't you even speak
Pretend you on the sofa and I'm
I been reticent
Meek by comparison
Sheep on the pedestal
They speak like a reverend
I don't find them threatening
So much for my adrenaline
I'ma live
"Ok, a song written by Emmylou Harris
Called 'Boulder to Birmingham'"
I don't want to hear a love song
I got on this airplane just to fly
And I
Ok, a song written by Emmylou Harris
Called 'Boulder to Birmingham'"
I don't want to hear a love song
I got on this airplane just to fly
And I
Cocoa
This lyric I'm makin is dope, don't call it so-so
Don't dis the Tung Twista
Leavin the suckers soft as a whisper, Tung kiss ya like a sister
Then
to bless a trip that was fucked since starting
Cold lesson check a love like war
My confession butchered deacons, countess
Why bleed this? What's the need
it sound like heaven well
Seven six five four three two one
JD what the deal is? Lemme get some
How many occasions you and your liasons
surrounded by the ones that's gone slide
We clutching on poles for a reason (we clutching on poles for a reason)
When I speak feel like a deacon (when I speak
Deacon turned demon
Pull up on his block, we gon' bop (Bop bop)
Jug shit up out his shop and we don't stop
(Hold on, run it back real quick like)
Shit
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