Lyrics:
Felt like I was, I was all alone in, in
All up in a different type of zone
I would close my eyes
And then I hit the microphone
Goddamn, I was writing in
hamburger
Till they bury me black, wrapped up in street camo
I rock the microphone strapped off with street ammo
[Chorus: Mac]
I got the game in my
Turn the beat up a little bit more in here, Bengineer, please!
I guess I'm doing this one by myself
If you can't just be good with being by
beginning, I was winning, the ladies would come
With arms open and hopin for a kiss and a hug
I stripped down, huh, and watched the ladies bug
I stood up for
chicken and chips
Like an eedyat, I started chewing
Woke up, started spewing
Thinking when is all this gonna end?
I had to open them up then wrap them again
finga up when I'm after you
Now I strap a big dick by the Girbaud sign
You heard I'm fuckin yo bitch, so you grabbin yo 9
Movin up like you got it on yo
it, all y'all bustas open up y'all belly
Think we playin bitch, well we ain't
I heard we had drama motherfucker
Put up the Benz and now we drive
glands
Life goes by quick
Faster than a Glass of Time With Sand
I won't deny
I was brought up on this Land
I'll leave and comeback Famous
And that's just
the town[00:15.75]And I'm not talking tune town[00:17.29]God works faster than dial up[00:18.86]He strolled up,[00:19.52]And the whole town gathered round[00:21
get they microphones snatched like Lee patches
So YOU GO! To every wack muthafucka that you know (Scram)
My lyrics they get up in your jeans like
microphones
I've been known to - take your ass to rhyme town
I've been known to kick back, rip it like a cyclone
Back once again, but you already know
This is
good to be alive
In such a small world
I'm all curled up with a book to read
I can make money, open up a thrift store
I can make a living off
good to be alive
In such a small world
I'm all curled up with a book to read
I can make money, open up a thrift store
I can make a living off
Aahhh, a nuff a dem a freak,
Den how dem waa fi class mi when all part dem a leak,
Ward 21 a speak, yuh nuh like it hold a seat,
Cause if yuh talk
pounds like James Brown give 'em ?Hot Pants?
I make your girl get down and open it up
Put my dick up in they jaws and go in they butt
I'm a young hot
by Open Bar, so y'all forget it
[Chorus]
Call it what you wanna call it
I'm a fuckin Alkaholik
Bring it if you really want it
Ain't gotta put no
on a
Microphone on the stage cold illin'
The knowledge I drop will be heard by millions
We ain't the problems, we ain't the villains
It's the suckers deprivin'
know I'm serving it up
I'm serving it up like toast
Like 21 savage yea I got a lot
Whipping it up yea I cook in the pot
You talking shit yea you gonna
I can't get no sleep cuz when I'm stressed I stay up
Be so stressed out I need to roll me some loud
We buy by the pound wow
The look and the taste
they're getting high
Where others try to wake them up
And open up their eyes
Where the cold streets are warming up
(Put the night to sleep
When I rise
on a
Microphone on the stage cold illin'
The knowledge I drop will be heard by millions
We ain't the problems, we ain't the villains
It's the suckers deprivin'
Step by x's with a brand new motherfuckin' mic
Now can I grab the microphone and spit some shit that's known
To blow the mind of Michelangelo's
And the flow seems to time wrong
Open up your eyes to see you trapped in a hall long
Vertigo kicks in and your vision starts to spin
Bad Dreams are
5-1 not 5-0, Im'ma be 52
Bomb drop non-stop spitting on you
Never have so many been screwed by so few
Call to save y'all, so whatcha wanna do?
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