Lyrics:
your feet up, sippin' by the sand
When they hated, you said yes I can, I love you pops, boy you the man
J-R-S-H-A-N-N-O-N, never in my life will I
check, checks
Niggas rocking checks
Nigga I got guns by the woah
By the flea collar, boy I'm at ya neck
We got funds yeah
God helped me change, we go up
Don’t rock the boat
Don’t you know I’m only 10 years old
Hey, I’m making waves
After summer camp I’m about to ace the 5th grade
Yeah, freestyles by
the blues, blues, blues (Blue Hundreds)
Home girl countin' on the flow, (Hold Up)
Partna wit the drako by the door, (Hold Up)
Main bitch bangin' on my line,
Hey child
I heard that you came by
cnd I'm glad that you came by
Yes I 'm glad that you saw the land
That made you a man
The land where I was waiting
Put your drinks up high, feelin' so alive with a pretty thing by my side
New fit too fly, wild for the night, got me yellin' out "my oh my"
I don't
Put me in yo group chats
Tweeting all that foolery
Hate when you start doing that
You know what you do that me
Hey
Not a day goes by
Yea I got some
left)
Keep it in keep it in keep it in step (hey, hey, woo-oh)
I gotta educate the people who don't know what He said
I'm turning red every time I think
and turns like it ain't ever gonna stop
And the circus boss leans over and whispers into the little boy's ear
Hey, son, you want to try the big top?
All
And the boys from the casino dance
With their shirts open like Latin lovers on the shore
Chasin' all them silly New York virgins by the score
And Sandy,
the brothers representin' the Dirty Dozen
I be the F-R-O the double G
And check out the man, he goes by the name of er
Slim Shady, brain dead like Jim Brady
the brothers representin' the Dirty Dozen
I be the F-R-O the double G
And check out the man, he goes by the name of er
Slim Shady, brain dead like Jim Brady
Woo, Shady, Aftermath
(Look at that bitch, oh, shit, hey)
There she go, shakin' that ass on the flo'
Bumpin' and grindin' that pole
The way she's
And the boys from the casino dance
With their shirts open like Latin lovers on the shore
Chasin' all them silly New York virgins by the score
And Sandy,
and turns like it ain't ever gonna stop
And the circus boss leans over and whispers into the little boy's ear
Hey, son, you want to try the big top?
All
the brothers representin' the Dirty Dozen
I be the F-R-O the double G
And check out the man, he goes by the name of er
Slim Shady, brain dead like Jim Brady
Lawton, AKA Deadshot
Flashback to Deadshot holding a phone
Next to him – and then a travelling shot
Of Gotham’s rooftops
Followed by Deadshot planting
go, where I go, I don't know
I just can't help myself, so
Why do I do, what I do, when I do
Well, I can say so or I just don't know
Boys will be boys
the counter says hey, yo, yo
He picks me up and sit me on the seat
And then he get the phone and get to dialin' the police
I'm on the run but I can't walk yet
(Hey) Throw those deuces up
And add a six on it
Call me Yung J O C I'm bout to spit on it (yeah)
I'ma put it on her (yeah)
I'ma I'ma put it on her
so because we satisfied
The wrath of God, the beef
Has been crushed, now we got a new identity
Called a saint
Yup! Hey, hey
Used to be where I could
two-fives by the livers
The fifth's is inconspicuous
Bad Boy slipped in '95? Ridiculous
(Hahaha, that's right)
My rap lines is like land mines (Uh)
One step,
Hey, people out there, not to go home yet
I wanna see those moves, I wanna see those steps
Until that, when you perform, others are torn
Shawty snap (yeah), T-pain
Damn, shawty snap, Yung Joc (shawty)
Yeah, yeah, yeah (shawty snap)
Hey, hey, she's snappin'
Da-ooh, ooh, ooh
Yeah
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