Lyrics:
Take it back to when it was eighths in the pack
Kidnap you over that lil' rap you wrote, leave your family taken aback
By the handsome quote, that I
your head, like I got your ass on record
Tune, don't be so cruel, Tune don't be so rude
Nah, fuck that, fuck these lil niggas, fuck these lil dudes
By
The world, it's mine. The world, it's mine
Ain't no time, to play
Mr. Big Crime, gotta get mine all the time
Don't pack guns, but I'm ghetto as hell
shot I'm jus jamming
I'm with the guys I don't panic
Stomp em to hell he satanic
This pack that I got came from Sampson
No Mr. Nice Guy, keep a small
Yooooo
Its Mr.CatchMeIfYouCan
Trynna make this ginger bread
Boy i been the man
Stop playing
How you hating and a fan
Im leveling up
You understand
pay for my shin cart
Talkin' down on six, set it up, get this bitch ass bought
He must not know me, I get lil' six, he'll hit him with a double cross
I
day they be casting spells
If I had to choose, I would be in hell
Play my songs for the clientele
When they look at me I just fear their health
Making
Burnin' up shits you
And fuck it I won't miss you
A lethal weapon my profession
500 G's
500 G's that put inches n yo life
Surrounded by 500 please
I don't really get love
Hey fine by me
I'm a savage motherfucker
Bitch I'm steady taking names
No my flame ain't ever dying
Yeah there's levels to my
the ground
Bad lil boy so I changed my sound
Same old motherfucker, still hell bound
What
Armstrong
And I say to myself, what a wonderful world
But what the hell was so wonderful 'bout pickin' cotton in the farm
Mr. Slave Man
The harder they
Oh no, oh no
Oh no, oh no no no
Oh no, oh no
Oh no, oh no no no
Mr. Jones has a little problem
If I had eyes I'd see that it was me
He's the size
Young hot nigga they can tell they can tell
Yea I'm on fire yea bitch what's that smell
Straight gasoline like I'm sponsored by shell
Came from
strong
But one look in his eyes and
You knew you were wrong
He was a mountain of a man
And I want you to know
He could preach hot hell or freezing snow
He
DJ Khaled
DJ Terror Squad
And he goes by the name of
You got the right one, it's Weezy fuckin' baby
And if your woman lookin', I'll let
to jelly
Ever since i got my racks up niggas trynna come and kick it lionel messi
Shawty know she be petty got a lil spanish mami givin head like a becky
up
Road by me on the corner, I'm a hold my nuts up
Its finna fuck you wit' dat
But if you a sewer skank let me hit dat
'cause I'm Violent J, ain't even
on my history
I'm known to the world as Mr. F-L-A-M-be -O-why-A-N-T
Killin' motherfuckers off crucial
Sittin' em' down mutual
Spittin' that ol' playa,
the way she drop it down
(Lil mama be so thick)
Little baby got the curves
You can tell what she worth
How the hell do I deserve
(Lil mama be so thick)
social
Mr. Who The Fuck suiting up
Mask on not too many of them do goods thoughts
Gotta a .22 to his dome run it up
If you pull up on Stain he'll leave
the only one I vent to
Neck on freezer, wrist on water
Drop a nigga like a mixtape, nigga
This Tha Carter
My old bitch thick, she look like Mrs parker
I know
out get dropped by the thousands
Check my lil bag
It just turned into a suitcase
Bitches barely on beat like you blue face
I've just been in the pocket
days will get wicked
You ask about the Goth
She don't sno how I'm doing
You askin how I been
Lil bitch I'll never fuck her
Dark clouds come don't get
Is there a place I belong to
I don't know what to do
Do you wanna walk in my shoes
Mr. Martian doesn't have a clue
Going to the left, to the right
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