Lyrics:
Message well, eh, what we like to hear most
Is one of our songs, you know
Taking shape in
A recording studio, ah, one of the ones
What John and I have
"How do you feel about this, my dear?"
I said, "Nigga you don't check my bitch like I ain't standin' here
Now I told you that this woman sells pussy for
the funk's gone
There's funk in everything you do so don't be stupid
You might imagine me funky though like Cupid
What is this? This is a tribute to the Mob
A thousand motels waiting to trash
Tv dinners, well I love that bash
And if you Eddie, just say hi
This party's open so drop on by
All your dreams will
I'm clever
Told that girl to operate on my dick like a lever
And if you had 1 time on your ass
You would call Lester
Yeah I know we do
Ridicule,
Still the same and I'm talkin delusional future unusual wait til I slap shit
Bitches following me like a catholic
Water on me call me John the Baptist
to heaven
Choppa' gon' break his jaw Ed, Edd and Eddie
She got the cake, and it's bouncing like betty
No call of duty but you might just fall to ground,
V it's all in my jeans like Sean John
All my niggas, let's do it
All my bitches floorin' that ass, let's do it
Looks a crooked eye motherfucker,
By way to Overtown and look at this city
Open to Grove and the South Miami
Wedwood Highlear, look Eddie, look 'Bana
Some many ice P-Rhymes rich
on
The homie Great John on the beat, by the way
Don't Come Outside, Volume 3 out now
(Great John on the beat, by the way)
I'ma fan Heavenly Father but
the middle at the top by the gate
On the grass with the crass Volkswagen estate
Whose is it? Mine! You're kidding, it's great! (Jesus)
I just love the way
Crazy Eddie in the slammer cause he's giving it all away
John Boy in the barn with a horse in the hay
No rhyme no reason no job no class
And we don't
(shit)
Same size as Dua Lipa, where the fuck my pen go?
Second fiddle to weirdos, you feel like Eddie Winslow
Street Fighter like Birdie, keep a stick
the pedestal
I'd even look for my dad that I never knew
And show him how I look in my Beretta, too
I'd do good shit like take kids from the ghetto
Show them
round drum
But quick to say I ain't do it
Ho niggas mad at me
An hate that I'm getting to it
Lil' Eddie B
Keep me ah bitch
Baby got pull
All this
(Uh)
Sipping on my maggy
Step up on my shoes,
I’ll get to double tappy
Niggas funny, ha ha ha,
they come like Eddie Caddie
All you niggas fassy,
The Big Show, you can call me Eddie G
She said my dick was that of a horse, I think she's on ketamine
She wants to do anal, but I've seen the human
carpets puttem in the trunk
Oh no ain't no shame that I'm fluent in heaven's slang
I'm like ole Eddie Kane and them demons can't hang with the flame
Minions
last
I'ma, I'ma hit this night up like it's my last
I'ma, I'ma hit this ass up like it's my last (boi)
I swear I'ma, swear I'ma do it like I (boi, do
last
I'ma, I'ma hit this night up like it's my last
I'ma, I'ma hit this ass up like it's my last (boi)
I swear I'ma, swear I'ma do it like I (boi, do
I got a lotta mf throwed how a nigga do it
I'm the truth can't come near the pure bullshit i ain't for it
John Madden make a play
Yea John Madden
Yeah yeah (Eddie Franco)
Hello
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Woah yeah
I'm trying to go pro bowl yeah
I was moving slow-mo yeah
Woah yeah
I feel like Uzi in
muthafuckas wanna be like me
I represent that 3, the capital T-E-C
You bitches better keep my name out'cha mouth
Before I get a bag of that
Fire and wait
(To Mario C, you can't front on that)
Well, just plug me in just like I was Eddie Harris
You're eating crazy cheese like you would think I'm from
-8643.jpg/225px-John_Scofield_(cropped)-8643.jpg "John Scofield")
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