Lyrics:
to focus on the doom
So I'm practicing to stand up tall and focus on the truth
World does not revolve round me
But I'm distracted by my dreams
Don't even see
inhale
No telling where we might go
Ride slow even if it’s in my hood
All good as long as the lights off
Good night if it end with a backwood
Black hood in
right out of my mind,
In a trance from her come-get-it flirt, while shakin' sexy to Aldean, black heels on the floor ,
Lips tuggin' on the snaps o' my
A natural fact:
That I pimp tracks and freak around
The game got cracks in them pipes
It's leakin' town
My lines blow yo' mind
Yo' senses
and then repeat this track
But, in the past, I used to smack dudes by the way they'd act
But, food I never jacked--that reminds me, I could use a snack
Yeah, yeah
Yo, yeah
Yeah
For- up in they mom's crib listenin'
To this unadulterated Nas- wishin' it was them
Instead of me on this track
niggaz sippin Apple Boone, this ain't no white cartoon
Cause I be duckin' crazy spades
The kid hold white shit, like blacks rock ashy legs
Why is
Yeah, yeah
Yo, yeah
Yeah
For- up in they mom's crib listenin'
To this unadulterated Nas- wishin' it was them
Instead of me on this track
makin a dent and be leavin the tracks bent
Steppin is the lyrical black gent, my Nubian accent
Breakin em up and then makin em take in the smell of my
stampeded by the wildabeast
A rap dast' plus tracks black like Chow Yun Fat
Oppositional forces get their eardrums flat
Common denominator, I swing the mic
Tell a nigga he can't fuck with this
Met ya bitch and now she on my dick
Fucked her now she wanna cap and shit
Tell her friends my nut on her lip
only do wins and I smoke on Ls
I shot him down on a horse
Wipe my crown and ride by his corpse
This is the wild wild west
This is the whole west world
Steal imported from Mumbai
On the tracks of their tears, the drunk provided by gunfire
Niggas swear to God that they tough guys
But really they
Black Thought, my sound's hard to come by
Last spotted on a yacht getting dumb high
Banging yacht rock with my squad from 2-1-5
Straight calling niggas
be tax free
I don't care who you are
No one's safe not by far
I don't rap I just scream
Fucking die reign supreme
Flow is like a seizure that will
Make
Rogaine
I've come a long way since a sad addict
But still not as good at happiness as packing bowls in traffic
I'm a sick bastard, lip smacker
Phantom limb
they
Lip popped by Fatso
Bum, feel the sting linger
Wrote this humdinger with a
Dislocated bling finger
Still king of the hill, it's the DOOM-Hour
When
both kids got 302'd
Was waiting for my mom up in his room
Had this feeling in my gut like the world was doomed
A black poster with a red S hung over his
The Plants
cll You Nepotism Families
Yo That Shit Is Trash
Yeah Its cbout Who You Know
But I Know
Skills Is What You Lack
I Don't Feel Your Tracks
Signed
of everywhere you go niggaz hate ya
And I ain't trippin', I'ma catch one of them marks on the back street
With the black heat, slugs run up like a track meet
niggaz sippin Apple Boone, this ain't no white cartoon
Cause I be duckin' crazy spades
The kid hold white shit, like blacks rock ashy legs
Why is
pain
I can get you John Doe by a no name
Catch him at the Chinese store
Pulled two sticks on him, we eatin' Lo Mein
Nah nigga, Smack can't hear
(hair)
an appropriate track
To shout the bros like my nigga Tim rollin’ the thrax
7th grade hoop dreams thinking Kobe and Shaq
Remember duck lip friend tried to throw me
by the law
I got my own people coming to attack
But this is how it go in the hood when your black
Man this shit wack like a Joe Budden track
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