Lyrics:
to chump my style
I let them know that I'm versatile
I got style, finesse, and a little black book
That's filled with rhymes and I know you want to look
the Book of Life
And no one knows you
You're shunned
Don't pretend to be one of My relations, ever
You are shunned
Call yourself Roderick Black
I think that
When Black Friday comes
I fly down to Muswellbrook
Gonna strike all the big red words
From my little black book
Gonna do just what I please
Gonna
When Black Friday comes
I fly down to Muswellbrook
Gonna strike all the big red words
From my little black book
Gonna do just what I please
Gonna
you don't fake it
Mix it, grease it weigh it, bake it
And who, cares, who
Looking when your cooking
With your crooked little book-a nooken
They might,
said it by mistake
My t-shirts make more money than your mixtape
I tell a boy Boy Better
Know it’s money making season
I book a flight to New York for no
diamonds in the light
And we're standing side by side
As your shadow crosses mine
What it takes to come alive
It's the way I'm feeling I just can't
One peaceful afternoon
I picked up from my mailbox
The strangest looking letter I'd ever seen
A chilling little envelope
Bordered with flying
sound
she better hope, that you better mind
mix me over my, debt (left,let?) be wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide! (whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!)
Submitted by
for a nigga to get peace.
Now it's broken and can't be fixed.
'Cause police and little black niggers don't mix so
Now I'm creepin' through the fall.
By the Christians, it is written
That in the black Myrthian age
There existed an addiction to blood, blood, blood, blood
Drink it up, fifty
the boot
With a bally and some all-black gloves
And some rope
Don't choke, when cops drive by
Give a wave
Then I scoot that whip round the corner like I'm
people to stick together
And this type of thinking also will bring an end to the brutality inflicted on black people by white people
And it the only thing
a nigga to
get peace. Now it's broken and can't be fixed. Cause police and little black
niggas don't mix so
Now I'm creepin'
Through the fall.
to mix yo cream
I told you it ain't what it really seems
they really wanna see me dead
Another black boy just full of lead
Not in my bed
have lovely
When Black Friday comes
I fly down to Muswellbrook
Gonna strike all the big red words
From my little black book
Gonna do just what I please
Gonna
that ni**a heartless, group homes, ni**a never had no fosters
'Cause who taking home the little black kid, poor thing, his momma is a crackhead
So
and that's the tale of the bloody tailed squirrel of bushbuck / a couple miles south if you take a bus/ a little town where it dont cost a lotta buxs / but so
"Fuck The Police".
'Cause it's hard for a nigga to get peace.
Now it's broken and can't be fixed.
'Cause police and little black niggers don't mix so
Now
normally, but strange ringed like that in black.
It doesn't get much better, your voice can get just ripped up shouting in vain,
Maybe someone hears what
they just beatin' up
Got even the little kids pickin' up pennies and nickles
Cuz they're fallin' in love with his teddy book
Give them livin'
of the great
magicians. An expedition of alien voyagers came upon
the now ice-covered sphere, drawn there by an
unexplained lone beacon far below the miles
life slip away
Its all fake anyways
What is real man who's to say
All these white lies
I be sounding little racist
Preach black lives
You be calling me
sustained by my empathy
When i rap and i mix i am aligned in harmony
I been around a while, but i'm younger than anthropocene
Zeni Pincher reasons that this
.jpg/261px-Belinda_Carlisle_(14357874569).jpg "Belinda Carlisle"){kind=spacer}
_2.jpg/300px-Little_Mix_at_the_Confetti_Tour_in_Leeds_(cropped)_2.jpg "Little Mix")
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