Lyrics:
on Jambalaya.
Well before I could walk I had a guitar in my hand,
By the time I could talk I had my own band.
I went on the road when I was eight years old,
When
My fans in billions all around the world
Girls keep me up, keep me right up on my feet
More girls all around, be chasing more of me
Any place I go
She's a good girl, loves her mama
Loves Jesus and America too
She's a good girl, crazy 'bout Elvis
Loves horses and her boyfriend too
It's a long
circumcision
And things could get more ugly than Coolio when his hair frizzin
My mind's a Warfield like Marsha or Justin
Psychosis be exploding by spontaneous
There was a town around
There lived a queen and a girl
A girl used to count the stars in the night
But queen – she counted pearls
And teased
I do my hair elvis style,
nails did squeaky clean
my cuticles suitable
for a dope pinky ring
I'm shinin I'm shinin cuz
I'm the king I'm the captain
There's a girl in the room above me
We pass by on the stairs
Claims she's in some new movie
And she acts like she's still there
Says she's in
the fuck
Alone! Don't come to our shows
And don't buy our records
Last year, a girl was raped by two wastes
Of sperm and eggs while they
Sang the lyrics
I gone and lost my mind
And now lost track of time
Passed out drunk, hit by alcoholic lullabies
Where did I go so wrong?
Thought that we got along
When we met
Did you forget all about them golden nights?
If I go on
With you by my side
Can it be
The way it was
My heart is true
Girl, it's just you
worth taking
'cause true love, they say, is so hard to find...
Why can't she see what she's doing to me
If that bandstand girl only was here
And I'm
On a darkened path in the middle of the woods
Leaning against a tree they see her with her red hood
A beautiful young girl with a basket at her side
Be mine be mine be my girl
Be mine be mine be mine
Please be my girl
Oh please by mine
Oh please be my girl be my girl
Boule accrochée aux muqueuse
"Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached
In life as by the obstacles which he has overcome"
Booker T. Washington
Young Mula, baby
Yeah, I belong to the world, don't be selfish with me
When I go places with Wayne, you would think Elvis with me
My niggas
on Jambalaya
Now before I could walk
I had a guitar in my hand
By the time I could talk, I had my own band
I went on the road when I was eight years old
When I
shooting the arrow
She asks me youngin
“when you gonna rap on amapiano?”
Ek se huh? Wat girl? Wag girl. Koel af girl, Allah gat jou straf girl
Take it from
his corpse
In the loft with the head cut off, and butt naked
Homicide the crime method, add another
Killer verse to the murder record, the grand finale
a young nigga strapped by the scene
Jackson Elvis
Money holding in the skinny jeans
Tryna rob me its got be a scene
Niggas tripping even off of lean
She gon
We were checking out the world, roaming around all alone
Scared of pretty girls and getting done wrong
But she tripped and fell and landed on my
make room, MAKE ROOM, make room)
You can't stop the shining
Yo, don't slip Mike
You don't want to go there is all, trust me
I know your girl wit you,
make room, MAKE ROOM, make room)
You can't stop the shining
Yo, don't slip Mike
You don't want to go there is all, trust me
I know your girl wit you,
OK, I'm reloaded (Ain't expect this)
The homey, Elvis Freshly (Uh huh) and Rick Ross-teen (Nigga)
He Back (I see ya, nigga)
I'm back (I smell that
I was raised by a maid who came from Martinique
She wore geckos round her neck and bracelets on her feet
A superstitious woman from the land
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