Lyrics:
got to be there by nine.
Pin stripe suit, clean shirt and tie,
Stops off at the corner shop, to buy The Times
'Good Morning Smithers-Jones'
'How's
late, got to be there by nine
Pin stripe suit, clean shirt and tie
Stops off at the corner shop to buy The Times
'Good morning, Smithers-Jones
of sheep in red clothing sus
Breath holding butt cheeks wretched clench
Serve me some bull poo breakfast in bed
Distressed by feds and their no knock search
on the boulevard
She met a man in a top hat
He said to call him Mr. Jones
He said a face like should be appreciated
Meeting you here well it must be fate
I got few
to go out
So I'ma run this shit up just for Jones now, yeah
I'ma run this shit up for my bros now, yeah
For my bros now, yeah
You better love me
yaknahmean?
You a Buttercup girl
Oh is that right?
Yeah
Well, I got Love Jones for you
Word, tell me about it
Chorus: Angel Cake
his fun day
A lost soul in a world with no regrets
Let me tell you about the ballad of ravey jones
On a cold and rainy morning
Feels like his skin is
coco (yes)
Time on time as the line goes by well you did it to the side like coleslaw (coco)
Chin chillin’ sippin’ Joko (uhh)
Gotta keep it on the low
drinks like a fish
Until a guy in khaki pants buys him one more brew
And says "Once upon a time, Jones got me too"
'Cause she led him by the hand through
love it when I hit it like that
Both hands on her ass make it jiggle like that
Coco complexion always on my line like
Jamo when you gonna come and do me
Casey Jones was a brave engineer
He told his fireman to not to fear
Says, "All I want, my water and my coal
Look out the window, see me drive
forgive me
Jose Jones
You need these walls
For your own
I'm moving out of this hopedaje
I'm afraid you'll cut me boy
Thirty miles by
Hundred miles by
she regular
Call me what u want
You call me ghosty punk not by my real name
Becaouse i know how that shit ain't the same
I used to be with you
I see so many stars, whenever you smile
I just wanna hold you by my side
But the way to say it, you'll think I'm lying tell me how to make you
I'm from that dirty, dirty, you can tell by the slang
Switch a lane in the rain, it's a sudden thang
I'm so Texas like Austin, Mike Jones, I'm
call you, George"
I said, "Baby, (baby), baby, (baby), baby, (baby)
Well, you can call me George Jetson, call me George Jones
I'll be your
touch
My money come in stacks and I know just how to get it, man
A low profile, might be ridin' a Honda Civic, man
You'll never know it's me, but
Am i wrong i mean i did it on my own
Moving 'round the city I'm just tryna make it home
Moving with it wit me make me pop you like i won't
If I
I fly by better wave high
I'm on your ass like a Jedi
Lookin good rockin' Maison Margiela's
Cook and clean you can call me Consuela
Found the groove
Cheeba chebba, y'all
You're all (Cry together)
Cheeba cheeba, y'all i need (Lie together)
Ya don't stop to get by (Cry together)
Yeah yeah
Ahh (You
ain't no sense in even faking
You know me I do it big by the bar and tell em jig
As soon as we walk in the do' we go straight to the dance flo
Id rather stay on my J-O and stack a bank roll
But if you real and you down and in public you don't clown holla at me ill be around
(mike Jones) but
that from Bun B Rest In Peace to Sweet Jones
Disrespect me I will regulate unbothered by you niggas hate
As a youngin OGs got me straight fuck what
invest in ebola
Fuck you up like Pop Rocks and Coco-Cola
Tryin' to be cute like Mun Chi Chi
Really catch a nut from munchin' on deez
Hundreds please,
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