Lyrics:
can tell
By the fireside at night
Children gather around
Hark the legend of the hardheaded
Arthur Morgan john Marston's taking notes
I was long before
to get by
So she reaches for her purse, grab the bag and the needle
Tie a sock her arm and start shooting up the diesel
Had a flesh back, screwing some
Haa Victory lap remix
You know we had to get the legends for this one right
AKA Ivy League all day
Let’s go
T from the V papa
And ah Ivy League papa
Time after time (only time will tell)
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
Time after time
Kane:
The ghetto's tryin to kill me
That's why I
The Lower East Side began
Punk fashion as well
With ripped clothes and spiked hair
Worn by a poet named Richard Hell
Hell was in Television, The Neon Boys
the carbon copy Im the real mcCoy
And I been this way since a little boy
Down inah the ghettos of st. Croix
Where the strong survive and the weak die
The pain
John Mayer
Fuck a long saber like i ain't
Luke Skywalker I'm Darth Vader
Armed with Vegas' claw blade may god
Save em -like Bart's neighbors
Stop hating
a little garden in the backyard by the fence
He's consuming what he's growing nowadays in self defense
He get's out there in the twilight zone
Sometimes when
make you a legend by the way that you gettin lifted
Gimme recognition
For the competition
I been wreckin
But I reckon
Don't you piss me off before
and a Panamera
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe (Huh)
Black Rolls Royce like John Doe (Yeah)
Ayy, got him on the tip toes (go)
Sit a little high like twenty floors
hoes
Got the choice have a voice
I rejoice in the choice
Might get shot for the noise
In the lot with the boys
By a bot in a Royce
She a thot with no
twerk witcha spine
Gone' do what ya want but don't duck with mine
Buck up
Wear your big boy pants
This little side hustle so full of my rants
With this
up in that blacked-out Range
We paid
Told the boys, "Tonight there's no violence
Yo, let bygones be bygones"
Little baddy at the bar I got my eyes
Movin' and groovin' trying to sing along
All through the ghetto groovin' this here song
Now you're amazed by the VIP posse.
Steppin' so hard like
by Willie Dixon
Copyright 1967 (renewed) Hoochie Coochie Music (BMI)
Gypsy woman told my mama
'while 'fore I was born.
Got a boy child comin'
with a little ghetto swing.
Yo Red, kick the ballistics, G.
It's the R to the E to the D, and what you get is what you seein'.
Straight up, B-boy
gonna sing, added to this missile
Fusion hip hop with a little ghetto swing
Yo Red, kick the ballistics G
It's the are to the E to the D and what you
Ghetto, I be strollin' 'round wit' smokers
I ain't even there
Right around the corner, got it jumpin'
You could meet me there they bad news
They was
the tropic
While I'm chillin' with a sea of fishes
And they ain't even wanna swim by
Me, I'm a shark in water
They can see I'm vicious
I'm not a lover boy but
and I'll stand my ground cus I'm R to the E to the A to the D to the Y
Legends live so mana never die
I see all thru my third eye
The populations hypnotized
up
Love that's yo dick
And if you ain't from the ghetto
Then ride out bitch
Arms, legs, backs, and breast
You better leave a fucking tax
and hide
Under something well disguised
To not be seen by the devil's eyes
He'll never be settled by little bites
Mini mites
Kilo bytes
Trust me he'll kill
See that once was a little boy, you was misled
By another little boy and this is what he said
As I quote from a man, you hope me gonna make some cash
fuck it up
Every government he set up, it be corrupt
Revolution
Dead prez, people army, steve marley, ghetto youth crew
What you know is who you are,
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