Lyrics:
Deisel on the belt Iding me
Is the tank full or u on e wit me
Cuz it takes effort to b
Forced love
Forced handshakes
And forced clubs
16 already felt like
Muhammad will forever speak
Greet brothers with handshakes in ghetto landscapes
Where a man is determined by how much a man make
Cop Cognacs and spit old
for them
I ain't ever been the G at the bar
That get them bitches hella wet just by seeing his arms
You know the boy about the leg work
I plant
more cowboys
If we did it with a handshake, we'd save a lot of paper
That'd save a lot of trees we're shippin' overseas to make her
If we stood by
these dude
Yeah we could jump 'em and check em, by sprayin' techs at these fools
Make it to trial, you don't win, indirectly you lose
You bad, makin' that
I don't know what love is
We even got a secret handshake
And she loves the music that my band makes
I know I'm young, but if I had to choose her
(don't-don't)
I swear by the Gods (don't break up the fight let 'em rumble)
Don't make enemies with me nigga (fuck all y'all)
Niggas gonna see they caskets
with the fake-ass handshakes
You can slide by me with the rest of them damn snakes
Flakin' like paper while I'm takin' my life serious
You talkin'
the game, never make it out
I blow a pound, rollin' weed by the ounce
Them niggas talk but they can't amount
Big bands in my bank account
Seen it all,
talk business, begin by addressin' the bricks
That was missin' in the last shipment
At first, everything nice, everything routine
Jocks lining up
America to me
The place I work in
The worker by my side
The little town the city
Where my people lived and died
The howdy and the handshake
The air
I take my goons out to see some landscape, nigga
We smoking Parmesan, smoking handshake, nigga
My bitch classy and she keep her classmates with her
"mm, nah, hey"
I would rather hold your hand and have a cool handshake
But whatever, we still could be friends, it could still be chance
I'ma play it
Muhammad will forever speak
Greet brothers with handshakes in ghetto landscapes
Where a man is determined by how much a man make
Cop Cognacs and spit old
where have you been||I been in Athens, Georgia by way of Bubba Sparxx|When the nights was bright|And all the days was dark|But now they all
Timothy where have you been
I been in Athens, Georgia by way of Bubba Sparxx
When the nights was bright
And all the days was dark
But now they all bright
from the dough that her man makes
We got our own handshake
Her titties ain't fake
Fucking in the car cause we just can't wait to get home
Early in
A handshake like before
Country ain't country no more
No, country ain't country no more
The back forty was sold to
Make up for hard times
Then sold by the half
altar
Attended by no one of visible means
Could be a warning shining us on, but we're far too gone
We're on our way to see some Johnny
Representing
The city is a trap
In which we fling our worries
And grasp for somebody's promise
Of the good life
Forever changing plans
Restrained by
Bye Bye bye Bye
It's goodbye bye bye borderline
It's goodbye bye bye borderline
You reached the point
You gotta feel what it means by
Holding our
You say, too much water
Has gone under the bridge by now.
I say that bridges
Are all that's left for us now.
Each side of the river, the city is
the fields
Gas, break, dip, scrape
Smoke it, up, figure eight
How I scrape? Goldie's a eight
Pull up, dig in my nose, and give you handshake
40-Agua, lent me
by snake eyes as the playa hate rise
New York state side to the West side
Fuck the best rhyme, best respect mine, from here
To Palestine watch Sunz
.jpg/300px-MGMT_Osheaga_(cropped).jpg "MGMT")
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