Lyrics:
pain
I can get you John Doe by a no name
Catch him at the Chinese store
Pulled two sticks on him, we eatin' Lo Mein
Nah nigga, Smack can't hear
(hair)
Yawn, what's the time?
I was trying to get some sleep
Attention, aah!
Bridges
Sharkey
Nutley
Jackson
Thompson (master!)
Well, as you can see we've
wit the most (Violent J)
And tonight we gonna have a little pig roast. (hehe-huh)
Top copper! It's been a long while!
Lace up your boots and come
the numbers, than bygone
Always hit licks, at your side homes
If they ain't loyal than, so long
Kobe told me to talk to 'em, but ain't wanna tell 'em too much
at the light by a gnat, I'm with you, not your friend, bitch, you are better
Hmm, lil' baby fuck for my dreadlocks, blue collar cons, got the feds hot
Just
thoughts racing
My long days give me short patience
My heart vacant, awards taken
What in tarnation, no information
No statements, young mula, all mula, mula
shots per second! (GUNS.)
Not only that, it weighs just six and a quarter pounds, and it's
Only ten and a half inches long. (GUNS.)
Hello, my name is
Sheriff Wade
It's a long way down this bottomless hole
Hampton Smith was murdered by a "slave by another name"
Shot by Sidney Johnson after Hampton beat
they know that they ain't close to stopping me
Steady stalking my page
They probably don't care what I'm doing just as long as they watching me
And I see
too long at Kelly's Bar again
And if you smell Shirley Thompson's breath you'll find she's had a little nip of gin
And then you have the nerve to tell
Always spittin' pump fakes
I just be raking the profit so long
Since way before Nikki had cake
Don't got an NFT, my music so hot
It move digital weight
a place you hear sirens and gunshots
Plain Jane, bro said he don't need a red dot
That bitch she on go cause she fuck with my dreadlocks
That boy not
JUST SO YOU KNOW
WRITTEN BY: LARRY KING, JOIE SCOTT, KELLY KEAGY
KEYS JOHN BLASUCCI
KEYS LARRY KING
GUITARS MICHAEL THOMPSON
DRUMS KHARI PARKER
he? That fucker a beast
Came with the fleet
Knock you out your fleece
Cold summers, long winters if need be
Fuck the world, bitch, I'm balls deep
yonder baby
We don't die, we multiply (i-yi-yi)
Yeah, ahh
We descended from a long line of renegades
From dirt roads to two lanes to interstates
somethin more than brass is a blast
Make a brother work hard, long and fast
Word is bond, we got it goin on
C'mon throw ya hands in the air
Brand
By Stephen Coore
We roots roots roots
But we intellect say wa? (say what?)
Time crucial but we cool wa wa wa wa
Low keyed but jamming high level
this planet a long time ago
Now, some of you might have
Read a book called
Chariots Of The Gods by Erich Von Däniken
And there's a little thing in there
cold
We destined to explode, that's why I stay on flip mode
Your dick rode me long enough Dunn, now you can let go
Every man in this world has
Of
Of
Of
Love
Of love
Of love
Of love
Of
Of
Of
Love
Mmmm
Got nowhere to go
Don't even got the time
There ain't no tippin' over
Long as you're by my side
Only
dreadlocks on the Speakerboxxx
Last time I saw you it was the equinox
I heard you with my boy the one who eats a lot
But I ain’t no slave master so I’ll share
Layers Thompson is this real
Is it real
Dunzo Donalds is it real
It's real baby
Wish that I could write raps with a calculator
Dunzo feels
the same
People who knew your name
Muttered it long before your famed grand exit
You were loved
By more than just the people who killed you
You will be
at the roundtable, and discuss
Trish ish batteries and territory issues.
By any means necessary, so in your chest I bury two buck shots.
So who got six niggas
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