Lyrics:
on my dreams
Know I'm coming with some Force so Imma do it by all means
But I gotta sit in class so I can run me a degree
I'm a Naturall to this shit can
And I can show you classic math
Like counting money stack by stack
Sike I ain't balling I'm just hungry
For more than the average
Rapper I'm eating cause
you can't judge a book by the cover
You got to read between the lines
Where have you gone, Betty Crocker?
Come back, Brigitte Bardot, Eddie was in for
play
King James mentality, like
"Fuck what coach Luke say"
That's luke warm, can't switch up
Like I'm R kel, new form
I'm too consistent, never
my limit
Can't stand another minute
I'm left for dead by you again
I'm sick to death of
Digging my own grave
Still bleeding, my head hurts and my
And if I hit the switch I can make the ass drop
Growing up they said the west had no lyricists
Can you imagine growing up hearing this?
So I
(Curtis Wright/Jim Collins)
Another fourteen hour day, crisis solved deadline made
I came home like always, tired and beat
Threw dinner in
everyone
Laughing hard is for the untamed ones
Who are hide and seekers still missing since they ran and hid
Come on, Betty, be nice, don't you run out
written
You gots to be kidding yo
It's common sense how I master my circum-fer-ence
You dense
I get locked the fuck up
Released on my own recognizance
Can
freakin' by a garbage can
The next young freak, I met was Red
I took her to my house and she gave me head
She like blowin' dicks, is all she said
Now I'm known by the masses
'Cause I've grown to make them smashes
On this journey, did many back flips
To get your attention, now that I caught
gon be thankin’ me
Tell the bitch hit my phone if she wanted some mo’
But I can promise that it’s never what she think it will be
Yeah
Give a dog
Bring in Blowjob Betty
Now we got it poppin' low
Hit then I stop and go
Film it record it
in high definition though
I got my dick by your ear
Do you
From New York
Made by the less fortunate
To West Yorks
No-one knows where Yorkshire is
From New York
Still feel I was born for it
To West Yorks
No less
hands on some dollars and cents
And fools can't hold us
Every chance we get, we hittin' up the rollers
Comin' up short of the green guys
And I might
hands on some dollars and cents
And fools can't hold us
Every chance we get, we hittin' up the rollers
Comin' up short of the green guys
And I might
the ladies come quick
The money can't fit in my pockets
But I bet that gun fit
And I'm so unfit
'Cause all I eat is rappers
And these rappers ain't shit
performance[00:16.58]By none other than high-fidelity Mr. Morton[00:19.77]Nice to meet you, I'm Mr. Morton[00:21.98]High profile I'm just important[00:24.17]Nice to meet
Eric Garner
Sandra Bland
Oscar Grant
Daunte Wright
Botham Jean
Breanna Taylor
Trayvon Martin
Shit if I talk if I name all of them
Hell it be the whole
of money.
Like I say ol' Jack Johnson he was a pugilist,
He was a pugilist by preference and by profession
And one day ol' Jack came walkin' on down by
do I entertain y'all with my disrespect?
Respectfully (Great John on the beat, by the way)
Lil Nas X gon' catch AIDS and die like Eazy-E (he is)
can't let go, let go, let go
Baby, you've got me open
Baby, I just wanna make you mine
By the end of the night, end of the night
By the end
you can call that bitches rich
I'm out this sports, I'm in the game
Fallin' the blaze, causin fo' Dade
[DJ Khaled]
Doe Boy, Slip-N-Side
Epedemic,
Go talk your shh by the way, damn it smells
Wine with chicken and pasta shells
They gonna ask, yeah I'm doing well
Can not be mad from the levels we
_1895-6.jpg/300px-Lautrec_la_troupe_de_mlle_eglantine_(poster)_1895-6.jpg "Can Can")
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