Lyrics:
a really long year
And your voice is so good to hear
I know that sometimes time can slip through our hands
I could make it to Memphis by sunrise, for
I keep on havin' these flashes
Murder by the masses
Sick off human ashes
Hatas passion
I keep on havin' these flashes
Murder by the masses
happened so quickly, so quick, by surprise
Right there in front of everyone's eyes
Greatest magic trick ever under the sun
Perfectly executed, skillfully
some east side niggaz and we runnin this shit
We some west side niggaz and we runnin this shit
[DJ Paul]
I'm from that Memphis 10 Bitch
Who gives a fuck
Club up Thugs.
{Manny Fresh}
Nigga like thiiiiiis.
{Baby}
Ridin on twenties.
Memphis and New Orleans we gonna show you how we do
I've been running from Memphis to L. A.
Had an appointment set sometime for today,
And if I don't be there by morning
You know that I must have gone
got carrots like Bugs Bunny
Memphis nigga overpaid, you can call me Mike Conley
I say I did it then I done it
Nigga, you can call me Donnie
Count my
in California, Memphis never had the blues
Oh, there ain't no trucks in Texas, and I ain't missing you
There ain't no phone sitting by my drink
I
In a bus headed for Memphis, seems endless
One earbud for me, one for the misses
Truck out in the ditches, you must of missed it
Shows me every song
I'm you favorite rappers god rapper the body snatcher pistol packer
Straight from the Memphis zoo guess that makes me a dirty bastard
Duck niggas
The limestone columns
Covered by designs
Carved by mystics
Chiseled, focused light
Pain in Memphis
Undercurrents
Heaven knows what I feel like
extra cash to pay for college with
And it just so happens I got a lot of it
Spin around the pole while you're doing splits
By the end of the night
Zone 6 nigga, Pyrex whippa
Pyrex
Yeah
Yeah, yeah
Uh
Check me out
Once upon a time was a lil' nigga from South Memphis, uh
I think they
California, Memphis never had the blues
Oh, there ain't no trucks in Texas, and I ain't missing you
There ain't no phone sitting by my drink
I don't hope it's
about trapping with
Them hundred-round drummers, boy?
Counting bread and killing instrumentals
Made by Drumma Boy (Paper Route Empire)
I'm doing too much
what you doing nigga watch my cup
Smoking cookie blunts
Memphis nigga drinking yellow tuss
And I'm bumping Pimp C
Riding with me a thick yellow slut
Yeah
[Chorus x2]
You throw Rose by the case [?]
Three hundred dollar jewellery [?] we [?] by the cases.
You define my case, Gucci is got no laces
It's
Ladies and gentlemen
It's my pleasure to introduce to you
He's a friend of mine
Yes, yes I am
And he goes by the name
Justin
All the way
was the last time
That time Casey was layin' up in the South Memphis yard waitin' for train time
Mrs. Casey was havin' a bad time Mrs Casey was havin'
going to go
And I'm heading down through Memphis
on to Mexico
I'm going to ride this old line not a damn thing on my mind
Drive me by them mountain
like a drive-by
We could stack dough sky-high
Niggaz can't touch what they can't feel real recognize real
Crew love, Roc-A-Fella till we die
As long
a promise without no truth?
I gave my love a fortune in silver and gold
I gave it to her lie, by lie, by lie, by lie that I had told
I gave my love a story
Got my snake skin britches, alligator shoes,
Money in my pocket, and a Memphis attitude.
Wear my downtown Stetson with a silver on the crown,
Moan
Got the Black Cat Moan Cause I wanna go home Got the Black Cat Moan
Laying by the side of the road
With the diesels flying by
Looks like my head
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