Lyrics:
she was with us so I brought her.
Dun got myself into a whole heap of trouble,
Double crossed by the law so it's nobody to run to,
Yeah it's just me
to the niggas that's turning it out
And maybe then, I'll take the gun barrel out of your mouth
Knowledge from one generation to another, perserve
and then
I got a head, but ain't no screws in it
(money, money, money by the ton)
I got a head, but ain't no screws in it
(money, money, money by the ton)
to stop shop, got knocked when I popped the glock
Shit was ran right by me and my man Mike
'Cause I choose to use a gun don't mean that I can't fight
And I dare not frown for
Fear of what comes out
Sing a song, kitty sing it
Sing it, kitty sing it
Some people don't think that Lily
Is smart enough
the band back on the road and we
Still got a lot of wild seeds to sow
LB prayed and Michael cried it was the
First time without you by my side.
Stage goes
Street
Who call themselves The Fugs
In April
They record by Harry Smith doing the
Punkiest songs yet to exist
Lo-fi noisy shit about poetry, sex and drugs
of Al Capone
Gun POW to the dome
And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge
By the alledged, full-fledged, sledge RZA edge
One dose of my feroc(ious)
nice
If they fucked with my music wouldn’t that be nice, if they went and saw my vision wouldn’t that be nice
If I could get by, cuz the song played
with America's #1 DJ, Funkmaster Flex
In collaboration with America's, pardon me, #1 independent rap label, Dipset
And right now I'm accompanied by
the end was at my feet
Willows and birds, their songs have sung
My wilting mind and dying eye, the smoking gun
Now, here I am, a man with everything gone
me, I speak in these songs
I speak how I feel, I feel like a gun
Yeah, a semi auto with a novice aim, uh
A lot of thoughts and a lot of pain, yeah
you?
(You the one that)
You the one that's acting
Like you moving zones, ain't you?
(You the one that)
You the one that's cappin'
Rappin' every song
feel like I gotta blend in constantly
But it is what it is
If I gotta shoot a Nerf gun, then I'll do it
I'm just having fun, blue pants and white tee
I
Uh Uh uh hey (Hey Shootbaby)
Huh Hello Hello (Hello)
Wait, what bitch!? (Damn, my fault)
Damn, you keep callin me (What's up, Deedot)
I made a song
Where the bad bitches
I'm tryna bag em all
Niggas swear they really know us but they not involved
I always wear white forces when I make a song
But
through (ha ha)
But you (na na na na)
We dance we were young
We have songs to be sung
We had fun, play with guns
We look straight and we run
We pant
Deep, on a creep, fifty songs tucked under the prone
Fifty songs tucked under the prone
I keep a big old nigga beater heater
It's in the trunk of my
on sight, or taken for a ride
By them dirty cold operator gun thugs, that roamed from town to town
A-shooting down the union men, where e'er they may be
a ride
By them dirty cold operator gun thugs
That roamed from town to town
A-shooting down the union men
Where e'er they may be found
Harry Simms was
helped
Seventeen, I almost died
By the hands of myself
Buddha say
Stop waiting on saviors
Save the world yourself
Leave crumbs in every single song
I like the French braids in your hair
And them faded blue jeans that you wear
I like to watch you shoot your guns
And I like the way you love having
a back in the day dawg
Thugs now a days will cock it back pop a cap in your acorn
Fuck what they say in they songs
Gangstas dont stay long
They make
feel sad
All this drive-by love got me
Crazy like a drug
I wear my red lipstick, got my make-up on
I'm Miss America, now I'm gone, baby, gone
I wear my
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