Lyrics:
bad
It's not so bad
Dear Slim, I wrote you but still ain't callin'
I left my cell, my pager, and my home phone at the bottom
I sent two letters back in
English
So I can learn not to make you frown
You'd feel better if you'd vent
Put your frustrations into four letter words
And let them out on mine
I ain't no nigga, fuck that shit
Does everything come out your mouth got to be a 4-letter word?
The way you talk about women is bullshit, plain
drive a man insane
Tom chose to die on the 4th of July
as they gathered round his bed
Sally lit the flame to protect his good name
and the letters never
Slipping finally from my
Psyche til' I find me psycho for a sight of cypress
Sounds of silence signed by hills with sixty-four bikers, bind with
do is By His Grace
Bro said how did you start your brand
I said it's all By His Grace
Bro said how do you do what you can
I said it's all By His Grace
And word to Ross, let that beef end
My bitch like Angelina for the weekend, get it by the deep-end (uh)
Top of the engine glass (glass), she keep
or get pulled under
Dug myself out with masters plan, a slight chance, but lord works his wonders
4 10 summers doing numbers, Writing letters to my
says, "Pig Pen, I got me a good idea.
Them Friends a' Jesus gonna save us!
"So praise the Lord and Mister Ford,
And follow that micra-bus, ten-four
ya (yeah)
About 5'4", my .45 is live (uh, uh)
Don't ya get live? Never judge your man by size (uh, yo)
[Chorus]
I'ma do my thang,
heavily guarded by hollow-tip slug
Then crack down on wannabe thugs
Adapt to gat sound and bow down
Slow the fuck up, see how my foul now
Articulate,
held accountable, so instead I pass the blame,
besides I wanna live forever like the cast of fame.
serious trouble will pass me by and my life will be
pack from the gutter
She ask for a rubber
But without one just feel so much better
I keep shit goin like setters
I throw up my letters
My YO! have these
pain
And pleasure, in every single measure
You miss being kissed by this lyrical treasure
Enjoy it at your leisure, cause it's gonna please ya
Master
better
Let's talk about the word deserve
Or talk 'bout the world deserves a queen (You queen)
Let's talk about that four letter word love
I think you
echo, ghost echo
Every letter talks about you and nothing else
Four sheets written to the wind with a heart on a shelf
Two rows of buildings bracing each
of pounds
Oscar hogging she get off these plays I call her penny proud
Haagan Daz my pretty brown
My bae if she can flip count
Crossing off my ex's flex my
dont make you invincible
Politicians stay paid by not having principles
Shit really simple
Be tryna ignore it shit sit on my mental
Four hundred years
is seeing your temperature taken by nurses
IV-bags, your family picking out hearses
It's like you at the Barclay Center, you won't survive these
again better call up Marcela
Smile so bright but I took it for granted
Fake bitches leaving you all alone stranded
Now my name talked about slanderd by
of the Bach with a four in my cup
I spent a mil up on the wokky, I ain't talkin' bout Bucks
(Aye, bitch, get the fuck off my phone, man)
(You know I'ma block yo
The word of the day is "adrenaline," which is a hormone secreted during times of stress
The first letter of "adrenaline" is "A"
Ay, ay, ay, ay
Ay,
Under your four letters
Lies, the magic words
Holy mountain whisper
Forest hides the bird
You can seek her wisdom in the mornings early light
I swear
contests
With a vendetta that sent a betta letter bomb to Congress
I'm pissed cumulus clouds of ominous
Words of the Thor, the rawness that'll restore ya
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