Lyrics:
you can't judge a brick by it's color (what!)
You only know if it's butter when you put it in the raw
and that watch ain't flooded if you still see
move,
And choose the course you're running.
Down at the edge, round by the corner,
Not right away, not right away.
Close to the edge, down by a river,
won't lose
Ain't no more telling how you felt lonely
Think you should focus on yourself, brodie
It's only right that I excel where it's higher to propel
nigga failure is not
Been on my grind for so long, and I'm still keeping it strong
I don't have friends cuz all my homies switch the bond into cuzz
Only
Allowed you to kill it so I'd resurrect it
I got a dream
Feeling like Martin
I got my team
Feeling like Jordan
Know what I mean
Feeling important
Know what
we hop a ride
And just sit there and stare."
Prepare for my nine o' clock work meeting
A couple pale folks slide right by with no greeting
But
toledo like a troop but what?
Leavin your conscience in a ?? but what?
Fuck a smith and wesson ?knife? and grabbed it look at what?
And right before
highly doubt it doubt it
Popped the trunk
We get it on like a western film
Six pounds of pressure in only a second
I've been really stressing for
A nigga black, but he selling white
20 grand a night if you can get it right
A nigga sitting in the Benz and it's white on white
A nigga black, but he
A nigga black, but he selling white
20 grand a night if you can get it right
A nigga sitting in the Benz and it's white on white
A nigga black, but he
half get it
These nis half gifted
We tuck in the dash wit it
We only got time for quick decisions
We rash w it we get the shit by any means
By
it's your passion instilled
Gotta greet a hater wit ya heel
Let a Nigga' know how you feel
Till I got sopapilla popping by the grill
Big Fort
ways that made you tainted
B.I. Martin's on the case
He picked it up right where I placed it and put me on the mic
Back to the basics
Basically, I'm
Here to give ya the summary, I'm doing more than ya team
And it's only one of me
Triple that by the numbers that's all in front of me
It's obvious that
the type you wanna listen to
But do us a solid and order it on physical
And let me know the right address to get it delivered to
What we consider paradise is
Paris Life Music
God’s work
I’m a King, Martin Luther
Baby got a body like a Supra
“Victory” tattooed under her necklace
And the only L’s she got is
Martin
Get it off the muscle, yeah, you know I'm on a grind
Think shit's sweet, it get more sour than a lime
And I'ma keep popping till the day that I die
and
My whole world stopped it was the only fear
That my mama had when she was so glad
Just to send her son off to college
A black man trying to seek
these hoes like a king
Till a real one the scene
Like Martin, I had a dream
Watched it turn into a nightmare screen
Wes craven just might hear scream
she want
What she- what she want from a nigga?
To put a ring on it
Got a bitch on my dick right now
And she just wanna sing on it, uh
Got me up so
byrd gang flip bird's on curbs
And, it's ya homey thunny, I got a pony dumy
Phoney's clone me, calm down I'm only money
Like prince akee, you
Old gray fence, tar chip road
Martin's creek, almost home
Whitetail buck by a one lane bridge
Around the bend up on the ridge
There's Thompson's
staring you down hard?
Is it the side love? Martin Luther only came so far
Is it the side of JFK, who saw all the broken cogs that made the wheel?
Whatever
and shit (ova)
Always trippin' by the bitch who sucks dick but you
You keep swearing that it's (ova)
lying like a bitch
Say you a pimp but you a simp, crying
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