Lyrics:
crown
I be countin' up stacks in
The Provost with the LACs
You ain't got a body cap
And a hundred snap backs
Sayin' studio trap me knick nack patty wack
work
Driving down I seventy five 'bout to hop on six ninety six
I look over this fucking chick's tryna fix her makeup
I'm like bitch, you ain't
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
datted in blood
I went to jail for years, for movin, burnin da drugs
Murda murda, kill kill
If you put me in danger
I aint trippin noo
No limit niggaz
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
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
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
nigga that's Similac
My nigga sent the wrong damn kind we got to send it back
Low key with the motion lil loapy they ain't picture that
Meet me out west I
Kanye’ing them
I’m talkin Kay Slay’ing em
Bust Rhymes, NORE and Ghost, Cam, Rae and em
When we down there
Them niggas don’t give a fuck about New York
If you
I wasn't going to watch, but like if I stand here
My legs are literally shaking
What you wanted earlier mmmmmm
Bodywand bodywand bodywand bitch
Got
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,
under-developed there, hell if I care
What hardship you claim to see, but I can tell by your stare
N**** you fugazi, sayin ya crew blazin
like sayin Miss Cleo is
a solitary box
They say can't make it home
I got some kids away who ain't do nothing wrong
But just got caught up in the mix with whipping
Flipped and now they
to wake up my lectual
Obama runtz and you smoking that Reginald
Bitch wanna fuck but she ain't on my schedule
Eating an edible, got me on vegetable
Stay
a nigga like that so fake
No different from a snake
Nothing left to give cause you always wanna take
If you ain't using all the talents God provided you
I know you're toting chrome
Trigger finger never letting go
Pressure got you blowing strong
Only thing to balance out the lows
Thumb and index by
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
Cent but respect my mind
Respect my gangsta, respect my shine
Put your click in chick if you step outta line
ain't Kanye but I been through the wire
kick em to the coast lines (true)
I'm a West Side nigga, we don't show signs (no)
You got some fake friends, they just toe lines (yeah)
Text, I reply,
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
got enough shelves
Look at yungin how he jeweled up
Yeah I blew up
It gets sticky if you wit me bitch yea I glued her
Couldn't get my niggas in the spot
Like, if you're my woman then why I gotta catch you out?
And it's dumb shit, like shit you ain't even gotta lie about
And this is when I turned into
drinking 90 proof 'til spring
Real niggas do real things
So now you own a record label, I got one too
We on a roll now, can't nobody stop our crew
You
.jpg/225px-Kanye_West_at_the_2009_Tribeca_Film_Festival_(cropped).jpg "Kanye West")
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