Lyrics:
my youngins getting older I need you to know I'm your number One soldier
I hold my shit down until the ground beneath us fold up but that ain't gone be
metal records and leather bibles
More Anton LaVey than Saint Michael
More sherm in a Ford on bricks behind Midas
Fly with the pentagram pilot
Sabbath
(Aviator)
(Taurus)
My bitch a Dirty Diana
Young nigga Michael Jackson bad (bad)
I came to ball, Steve Nash (ball)
I wake up, pop a tag (I wake
Words and music by John Kay, Michael Wilk and Rockett Ritchotte
If the heart is a lonely hunter
Then the mind is a loaded gun
Sometimes it begins
Susan's right (Susan's right)
Ambition eats right through you
Michael doesn't see why Johnny holds so tight (I hold so tight)
To the things that Johnny
Girl if i had one wish
It’d be for us to get rich, have kids, Hold it down n never split
Girl if i had one wish
It’d be for us to get rich, have
and Mitch, followin my cousin Murdoch
All the brothers were real, goin for what they feel
By the way, peace to my man Sha and Big Neal
Now in
Halle Berry did Michael Ealy
I'm spittin' pollaseeds (I'm spittin' pollaseeds)
I crack 'em one by one 'cause I don't wanna be greedy
Cause the salt
my head away
We gotta first world vision to complete
To lift our hands in the air and cry for a switch
Michael Stipe:
Father, father
P Diddy:
Father
going on 'cross seas
Every minute a child dies by this disease
In record numbers indeed
Got momma's crying out please
My baby hold on
My child ain't done
dies by this disease
In record numbers indeed
Got momma's crying out please
My baby hold on
My child ain't done nothing wrong
Still I want to holler
Ask
dies by this disease
In record numbers indeed
Got momma's crying out please
My baby hold on
My child ain't done nothing wrong
Still I want to holler
Ask
fucked by Muggs
I'd like to give a shout to Cypress
This can't be real, you dissed me and I was just tryin' to
Give you a shout, now get the fuck out my
bitch a selfie queen
I got some hitters on my side
They to my right my left
I got this gold around my neck
I feel like Michael Phelps
I got this gold
is still the goldsmiths
Hold shit steady, we close-knit and deadly as a heart attack
Trust me, the pitbulls is petty
Already infamous, limitless,
it
Cuz with you by my side we could conquer this whole thang
Keep a grip right next me
These days I can't fall asleep
Been busy plotting all my
Shorty from the A like the falcons
She fuck up a check at the outlets
She be counting bread by the thousands
She got a lot of bodies who's counting
barely survived
Where you rarely can thrive
In prison unfairly deprived
The government wants to lock us
& control us
Hold us in cages
& then try not
of trappin
We see him round up by that nigga, Beat it Michael Jackson
Come here, nigga, where the fuck you goin', nigga
We see him round up by that nigga,
eight stars, don't give me no C in this life
I'm just glad that my young born kids won't have you as a daddy in this life
Hold your L, you prick
F you,
a Michael Kors
But still acting up like
Now you dancing up in Bottega shoes
By the girl that wearing that Prada clothes
And you feel inside like a Michael
far greater
I am like Michael Angelo the archangel
If he was a dark natured art painter
Painting a picture of heart failure
Look at the all the trash In
Words and music by John Kay, Michael Wilk and Rocket Ritchotte
And she walks along by the river
Where you can be alone with your dreams
And she
going dance
They moonwalk Michael Jackson
Bitch I'm the shit
Walk around with some napkins
They call me the goat do this
Shit with no practice
Was good
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