Lyrics:
choose to pack a black 22
By my waistline, buckin' your whole crew
I step through, and represent Black Moon
First, before I kick a verse, I puff a bag
of my styles you can get with 'em
Still um, will um, your crew come get some so I can kill 'em
Well I roll by myself but don't let it fool ya
If I
my blue fire
I ain't had enough
Of the game
it's a shame
I won't trynna cuff
But you slid in my lane
Black haired brown-eyed
So I had to refrain
they get is 50 cent franks
And papayas, from the village to the tele
Time to kill it on your belly no question
I got more black chicks between my
they get is 50 cent franks
And papayas, from the village to the tele
Time to kill it on your belly no question
I got more black chicks between my
cross-eyed
Frankie's a giant here; he rolls in all the green
And Drac is not repelled by the silver of the screen
Wolfie's box office gold when his fur flies
Ya know we peepin' y'all
Slow-motion-style
Pacific Ocean-style (Wh-what?)
[Verse one]
I'm in a rowdy-ass club
There's hella-bitches all around me
be mine
..then again I dreamed that yesterday
My life's amazing - my life's a mess
My life's delivered to the - wrong address
by the look in your eye -
me, talkin' like y'all can't be touched
See by the time y'all realized, I be done touched you up
Blazed you up, your whole style, chump nigga, what?
you droppin' too many bombs"
But this is automatic when I feel atomic
Kicking game to my sons like it was a album on a EP
And by the time you get this
on me Las Vegas
Back on my shit
That’s the fragrance
Inked up
Theboyistheman
Faceless God my watch GOT damn
Talk to reckless thats the brand
3 Eyed Raven
is deaf to my cries
My fellow inmates' were on cloud nine
Admiring me like an iron watch as I glowed and shined
Starry-eyed, I didn't know what destiny
and Brooklyn from fighting
Telling me to pay my respects and move to the side
But I probably wouldn't have got off my knees to let people by
You can't kill
fightin
Tellin' me to pay my respects and move to the side
But I probably wouldn't have got off my knees to let people by
You can't kill nothin' that's
let's have a discussion
My style is never back down
And I won't settle for nothing
They call me
The Black Panther like the king of Wakanda
Got the whole
(yo)i write rhymes that make niggas throw they sets up
Couldn't hold my style if you had a pair of handcuffs
In all disrespect
I'll snatch you by your
neither talk the talk nor walk the walk
Stalk you as the keen-eyed hawk
Tiptoe with ninja socks and peep through the lock
Like heaven through the blanket
and camouflaged in my six
50 dollars on my ? story bit? , I worry, worry style bitch
Even though my hostile spit on his mossburg grip
Quote it I spoke tank dawgs
the mosh pit, still can get socked bitch
Yeah cuz it’s my show bitch you listen to my shit
All black fit, black kid dress gothic
All black fit, black mask
the years that I waste now.
Keep my style medium-rare grilled steak now.
Feeling like I'm on a quest, put my skills to the test.
Won't stop till I show my
authority wil be over ruled the second jukie uber alles news hit the sewers.
CHORUS
Rickety Rackety. This city fit my style exactly. With a backspin,
Black Have Knotz- Alcohol Callin, Everyday. No Escape Too The Drama. These Gutter Life Emotions, Filled Wit Tragedies. My Mind Hypnotic, flashin Through
off to depart
Find my clothes in my bag
Accept the waves and kisses and
Sideways mad-eyed Picasso looks
Of these lovers
Knowing full well our secret in
appoint them
Driven by envy, they don’t see how the
Rich people exploit them
You’s a millionaire, yeah, off
Of black despair, yeah
You’s a millionaire,
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