Lyrics:
yea
Yea yea
Grew up with the gang
Bunch of renegades
I come from the ghetto
But I ain't living there
Did some phenomena
That boy he a menace
Can tell by
on his Instagram
Did a song with Young Dolph
'Fore ya'll even know what Memphis had
I intend to smash, no pen and pad
Married to the game, no strings
Hypocrites forget like marionettes strings in the back like nets
The chosen one who fuckin' laugh themselves to death
Lack of rhymes meaningless punch lines
pockets so thick
From the back I'm looking thickums
Lil baby throw it back, like she didn't wanna take it
no strings attached that's why baby I like air
from Far Rock hoppin'
Over the turnstile
To set up shop up top by the Jamaican spot
My joints have been a
Bop, from vinyl, cassettes, cDs and streams
the top
I was dreaming prime rib maybe
Better off with slops
I just chop like sticks right role
Wrong flick
Going off, light switch, dim skull, no bic
I'm
from the cabana thin phone in my hand
Blasting Country Grammar, “send dome” my demand
Head spinning like Havana syndrome and Xan
Yo I do this show daily
see Luh Tyler at the top, they like, "No way" (they like, "No way")
Pocket full of guap, it ain't nothin' like the old days (ain't like the old days)
dinner from a wood burnin' stove
Or rode bareback in a rodeo
You wanna see the redneck side of me
Give me a six string flat top guitar
Put all you
introduce your girl to some boss living
Everything 2K around me like I'm Irving
I'm in Oakland with the Stephens
All my niggas got a F-N
Hit shorty on DM
Got
it back a revamp just a sample
I said that I'm finna to run it up
On my green like a string bean bean no asparagus
I'll be the captain of this team ybp
it
Nigga I live it (no bloodclat gimmicks) blow
Soul survive cut me a slice of American Pie
Piece by piece, bit by bit
'Fore it all falls down in
Me and honeydip see eye to eye
And if I see bull, she'll walk on by
But that's not the style of the black child
Broke from the shine, I get it go
it up (bag it up)
I like the way you work it (no diggity)
I got to bag it up
Top Dogg, bite em all, nigga burn the shit up
D-P-G-C my nigga turn that
bombast of its breast
By which I knew upon waking
It was telling me
In no uncertain terms
To bellow forth the tubas and sousaphones
The whole rusty
I die they know I lived it well
I'm from the ghetto n***a
And no Geppetto shall prosper
Pull strings, push start
Thats the mazi not a mazda
Free Mozzy
a song in the top 10.]
Don't you want me no more? [...turning out a film.
Bring it on home, Daddy!] Little girl, little girl, little girl
Baby, baby,
infrared beam
He got hit with a dart
Flame strings and the STL baps
When we bome around
STL caps and Jay hats when we bome around
I'm with the Baby Stones,
fucked up when I gets into my clowning mode
Then go to clown up on they ass like Bozo
Oh no, then dance on top of they asses like I was Jo Jo Dancer
Come
song for those who are like me|Lost in the shining stars, the shining stars||Well, we don't got fame|No name in lights|No billboard hits|No sold out
smell
Walkin' far if I got mo booze
Yea your hats still to the back
Ain't no cover up for roots
Got a pocket full of crack
Lock it up and get
that
Fuck sufferin', from pompous Republicans on puppet strings
Breakfast at Tiffany's, watches, rings, a couple chains
Never talk on the phone
Diamonds all came from the rough so we bout to clean up and shoot straight to the top
Said I'm back on my cardio chasing the dream like a sniper,
the Crackerjack store
still at will
for field up the skill for the jill by the Jack
misguided mojo swing low string
sing along as I bring along with the song
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