Lyrics:
it’s every rapper in the industry
(literally) and they wanna know why
We pressing these niggas
They don’t let us in they facility
Cause if you ask me I
I need to mix and master my music.
• Knowledge is power… And they don’t want you to have any.
• Keep your head up out there in the streets gangsters.
as a motherfucker
And still the motherfucker you love to hate
But can't - because you love what I make
Now ain't - that about a bitch
And I'ma talk shit until I
cop
I got a secret knock and serve out of a equinox
So much keys you would think my youngin was Alicia pop
I make your bitches stay with me and call
the north, they born menace
Ay, ay, no Kanye
I walk in the trap, play with yay
Bao, bao, bao, ra-ra-rao watch what you mu’fuckers say
Call up the lean, pour
With the mix and the flow
I get faded on a low
I find peace comes with ease
Put it ready on repeat
There's no leash
There's a kill
RIP
By
lackin' knowledge, givin' me the third degree
Actin' like you in the aisles, but can't even see
Supposed to be your neighbor, I ain't the enemy
I'm comin'
years
I ain't just got ends, I end careers
Cosigned by the allmighty pac
When I drop science like? I'm not lyin'
Put a scar on your face like Simba's
ain't rob folks
Some cats rob folk and still starve 'cause the niggas that they rob broke
If everybody at your job broke
I hope you find a new
these days, they ain't goin' by the books
Proceed with caution, if you're not
You're lost in these fucked up times they
Have no remorse in
Get twisted,
of the time
We go to war and you ain't making a dime (ha ha!)
Cause I got, shit to lose, a nigga out here payin his dues
My baby walking gotta get him some
of the time
We go to war and you ain't making a dime (ha ha!)
Cause I got, shit to lose, a nigga out here payin his dues
My baby walking gotta get him some
at noon
But they ain’t know nothing bout us
That’s why they all gonna doubt us
I got like 50 new bitches and they ain’t leaving without us
They got me
you at, nigga
Yeah, yeah, check it, check it
95-South, homie, tell ‘em I’m en route
And I ain’t fronting nothing, neither
That ain’t what I’m ‘bout
No
And If I wasn't Banks shorty probably wouldn't roll
From the Benz to the lobby from the lobby to the do'
If you ain't with the program ma you gotta go
ain't right,
By the time you could afford it the car ain't important
In the streets silent, it's just I and, cops keep firing in my environment
ain't got no problem with that nigga, but
I make you feel better
I called your phone, baby, pick up It's more than just a hiccup
I'm tryna lay it down
Kanye at the Grammys
I spit like my steak bitch my flow got rarity
I be all up in the cheeks I ain't talkin sandy
West side to the fullest niggas ride
Ren, playing to win
(he got the) coke in hand, (I got the) juice and gin
Same shit you was fucking with way back then
We keep it cracking from
Ren, playing to win
(he got the) coke in hand, (I got the) juice and gin
Same shit you was fucking with way back then
We keep it cracking from
You can catch me in the hood smokin' good, posted on the lot
Got a pocket full of money 'cause I'm fresh off the block
The hood smokin' good,
Bros don't talk, they've devoured this jungle
Rule number one no money no peace
Only step up mate we the top dog, who you flexing we got the keys
All you pussy bitches hatin', y'all ain't on my level
When it comes to guns and bitches I got several
I said I'm rappin', but I carry heavy metal
I got
texting me
Walk around like you ain't stressing me
Guess I ain't sweating you
Old spice yeah I got the recipe
And I got a new drip
Dussé mix it with
.jpg/225px-Kanye_West_at_the_2009_Tribeca_Film_Festival_(cropped).jpg "Kanye West")
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