Lyrics:
more than a man lost, dead in my sin,
So here I am alive in Your hands,
Your hands, Your hands
We dress up in nice heels, we try to make people
and 3rd out
Looking at my album like the word count
Tryna figure how much more of me you niggas need
Y’all ain’t listening, but I’m a hold the energy
like Jimi Hendrix, my hero, I realised, wait these songs of his
Some of them they're written by Bob Dylan
Maybe I should be listening to that guy more
It
Horry
Everybody hate on Young Tru boy
Cause they know that the nigga on fire fire fire fire
Rap phenomenon, soon as the album drop
artists don't eat
harder than a motherfucker
That's crazy
Be on the lookout for a new up and commin album
The new 3 6 mafia album the last to walk
I don't know if it
streets
We don't play that
We Pat Sajak-ing
That boy for his sneaks
Spin the wheel
See just where yo fate at
Sign deals
That let em steal the home ya
fuckin' with him
I don't need your dumb advice
So don't talk that shit, I don't need no lecture's
Y'all got more junk in your truck than a mother fuckin'
And as time goes by
It all gets clearer
That memory paused in time
In the rearview mirror
Theres more than meets the eye
Than just that little boy
It's all
a million out them apartments
Shooting for my dreams
Now they say that I'm a target
Ay making bands on the backstreet
With them boys
Tucking the Franklins
a roundabout way, we fill our plate
And that's all we really need
The rest is just greed and manifestations of money
And we even need much less than we consume
slinging them rocks
Cah this is more than a dream
Fuck
This is more than it seems
Life is short so I take them chances
I told you about, sow that seed
No pimp or Larry Flint
Blowing up like a blimp
The Grinch
Take a pinch
Rhymes like salt with a bit of spit
It's shit
More than it
Not tempted to flip
you can tell that a boy finna eat cause I took my seat first
3 course meal, full entrée, refills and I want my dessert
So why not make a toast?
My rivals are the independents, That ain't lying
Partnerships and relationships, that would slow me down
Mowed down by my lawncare guy that make more
peace that last
Picture a place that they exist, together
There has to be a place better than this, in Heaven
So right before I sleep dear God what I'm
the reason he tryna say that I'm gay (ayy)
Way more coochie than Kay Slay (ayy)
I sell a mil in a day (ayy)
All of my bitches they grade A
I did not get in
was good, Max, that's my boy
I'm just speaking facts, you bring us joy,
Thank God for this album, he's the best
Gosh darn it, Max, I'm so impressed
Quarter, dancin witcha daughter (ooh!)
You can't handle me, I keep it tight
With my Bad Boy family, that's right
Chorus:
And we won't stop, cause we can't
rapping is ass
Shit I don't need a courteous pass To be that rash
I never thought the USA could BE this mad
Judging by the people that they're putting up
at your garments, boy
What about that shit you say they did when I was broke? (Yeah)
And what about buyin' a ticket to get beat up at my show? (Yeah,
to funkytown
Express from the west so it's best that I clown
I bust the alehze on ice on down to beck's brew
I got more fame than dana dane I hold mics like
Come on
We gon' see it through
More than just an album, this is DS2
Gotta be ready to go as soon as He said move
Rebuking any evil and them demons
you acquire those Alaia's
When I met you I heard Jesus, bells, strings, and the choir
I got lines that's better than niggas' albums, plural
The king
there was more than one actor involved in this play
It was never a one man show, tell me something that I don't know
I heard someone killed Kennedy! What
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