Lyrics:
on some sick paint
Customize, off Johnny, your shit ain't
Nose in the air
Actin' like my shit don't stank
I'm the king of the streets
So I'm top rank bitch
melanated man, woman, or child is safe from we must protect ourselves our woman and our children by any means necessary it's time to stand up
verse1: they
damn beat now all the money is mine
I carry big fat WIVES, I treat my girls like guys
Ask 'em "who do they love?" and they all say TIDE
I'm just
no more
You ain't the first to be dumped by a goddamned whore
Crazy mother fuckers fighting over hos
Stealing for their asses and jumping out
niggas how to spend, stack the rest
Give blunts to the niggas under massive stress
Give every bum on the street cash to invest
And hope Harlem will blow
(K Hendrix cold as a mother fucker)
This that real talk
This that real talk, this that real talk
I know some homies switched up, bitch I'm used
stay prepared by taking one step at a time
Dear God I've got so many questions
Why do your followers have their heads stuck so far up their rectums?
stall
Stutter, softer than melted butter
There's no other word, go ask your mother
Hard solid as your city
Born in Brooklyn, can tell by the way that
might go kill a couple of niggaz mane
You know, go in they hood and do a drive-by
Then come back in the hood and laugh about that stuff
You know, its just
say in his image
We're made in
Who is he
And where is he now
Seems like the lost
Have been searching
Since the first time this
Mother ship broke down
designer but don't got no housing
Keep shit a hundred boy keep it a thousand
S with a line, stack it up by the thousand
Cash
She love to bang, she wanna
it rain I control the weather
Jewelry on melting looking like some fucking butter
Only love I ever felt nigga was from my mother
No shade to my
providing the pennies saved
Momma still brings back sweet memories
Mothers story bring back sweet memories
And i still love her eternally
Mothers story
peoples
Gotta be my brothers keeper
One time for my brothers
Two times for my mother
Three times for my daddy
The reasons I love the hustle
I dedicated my
the love I felt was good
I'm hanging only with those I believe my brothers dawg
OGs, little runners, everyone involved
Fuck it, get your mother called
We've
make you noble though
You build and work but can't buy a flow
Can't buy a friend
Cash overdose
Let's see who stays
When you're poor and broke
Look
the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I noticed there's so many of 'em
And there's really not that many of us
And ladies love us, my posse's kickin' up dust
the rubbers? Who's got the rubbers?
I noticed there's so many of 'em
And there's really not that many of us
And ladies love us, my posse's kickin' up dust
It in the DNA got it from my mother biiiitch
God Damn Independent
Never ran off on the plug
Straight cash under the rug
While I ran suicides hustle
She want me to
Pop up by the Telly
I need I.D. Bitch this not no
Robert Kelly
Ay
Please don't hit my Phone til I'm Ready
You are not my dawg you
it's cold
I'm a hot soul
Used to blow
By the store
Blowing my chances away
Blowing my weed away
Aye
I blew my chance with the one
That i thought i was
(Gotta get the bag!)
Yeah, shawty gotta let me know (Gotta get the cash!)
Yeah, shawty gotta let me know
Baby, tell me, do you love me?
Yeah, or is it my
to fill
Worthless prophet
Of my own destruction
Useless delinquent
The devil mother's very own
Weight me out in cash and cents
And interest on all your
Surrounded by
Misfortunate children
Who get the cold shoulder on
The coldest of Christmas
Where there's no love
For the wicked
Josie resorted to snorting
But
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