Lyrics:
it til' my moms car does its own driving
You lying on that Christ name
Mr. Sunshine with that bright aim
How long you taking with releases ain't
drive by
Im never waisting no time you know I'm bout mine
It ain't even bout the shine
Ima stay up on my grind
That shit up in my pockets nigga this aint
Excellence
They lack a skill like pestilence
I stand on reverence and dance on Everest
Fueled by appetence
Skill how I'm mappin' it
Real backyard so raw, not
I'mma take some time to write so I don't lose touch.
The miss is (misses, mrs., etc.) gettin' expensive,
It's almost too much.
Sittin' spittin'
you shut up and sit back
As I serenade you with this sick track
Beat by Mr. oh wait who is that
Someone who can make all your shit wack
Never fell off
the ends, but it don't help the means,
Cause I got hella people in my life that's steady helping me,
Mom and pops and little bro, they always by my side,
motherfucking mind, come here
Mr. Pretty Tony, I mean, you know the rules of the game
I mean Your bitch just chose me
Now, we can settle this like you got some
or stoned?
Schmiddy took the brown hit and puked in the road
Back before them trees were legal it was two for the zone
And your baby moms a freak she sending
only place a nigga exercised
Joining programs just to keep my fucking stomach full
But when I fought I never let my mom see my face swole
Told her my
*Twenty Nine* by Mr Spirit
Now it's my Birthday
I thank the Lord for life
And for this great day
And to my mom and Dad
Now am grown
Some people
you might think that redneck lyin
But he'll tell you that the story starts in 1989
He was playing Texas Holdem with Mr. Job and Roman G
But they got
the ends, but it don't help the means,
Cause I got hella people in my life that's steady helping me,
Mom and pops and little bro, they always by my side,
ask for respect hoe my steez demand it, my ascension is based off of proper planning
Boutta son all these rappers feel like Mr Cannon, lemme chill fore
Exacerbated by the fact that my syntax
Is highly complicated 'cause I emigrated
From the single greatest little place in the Caribbean:
Dominican Republic!
never get the last nail outta the cross
Befuddled by life and alone in death
My dearest companion is crystal meth
Dinosaurs callin' me back in time
the hell?
And here come Mr. Billcollector beatin down our door for dough
Mama say when they come knockin
y'all don't say nothin (shhh) get on the floor
fond of players
Only wanted ballers
To spoil her
Six figures and camcorders
So what you trying to tell me dear
I got Bentley, Benz send in Mr
Lemme just do this interview real quick
Hello?
Hey, this is, uh, Brian Brant calling for a Mr. Evidence?
How you doing?
First
singles on the radio
Chino never had the doe, I was determined though
Sabotaged at birth, cursed by an evil angel to strangle
My aspirations from every
Yeah, I miss your mom and your dad (and your dad)
Your sisters, brothers, all of that (all of that)
Remember Christmas-time by the pool
I never, ever
and tried to slide
And hide, but he got knocked by the homicide
And this happens everyday around my way
So I pray that I can live another day
Ayy, yo,
I'ma muthafuckin Hillwood cowboy
5 40 ass raised Mr. C. Coy
A.k.a. El Coyote
Creepin' slow through the monte
Peace to my niggas in the grave
and tried to slide
And hide, but he got knocked by the homicide
And this happens everyday around my way
So I pray that I can live another day
Ayy, yo,
you're offended by that line
We're probably from a different time
Because my generation talks like this and we think that it's fine
Watch me go outside
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