Lyrics:
on my seat
Ten-thousand-dollar toe rings, featured by me
Bitches know it's time out
They be fucking me so good, I be like 'Time out'
They want to fuck
'Nuff Class
So To Prove To Ya All That We're Second To None
We're Gonna Make Five MCs Sounds Like One
Ya Gotta Dip Dip Dive, So So Socialize
Clean Out
Accompanied by Marlowe Mahon and even my Ex
Genuine salutations shared as I watched Mike on the juice
And Kolima's on the dance floor getting loose
I catch up
and Mike Yabron
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Wonder Mike and
I'd like to say "hello"
To the black, to the white
The red and the brown, the purple and yellow
But first
I gotta bang bang the boogie
I'll be duh don dada odda psalm
Ill compel you to shid em out n flush em tikrum bil 7amaam
Change y'own narrative by takin charge no snake oil or lip
out like a draft pick
With a mic, bitch, and I'm nice, bitch
Six rings, yeah, I'm on that Mike shit
But I hit her two weeks ago
Sip the drink, hit
This the shit that happen when we go out on the town
This the shit that happen when we go out on the town
Bottles get to popping and them bitches
just take half and bust 'em out
I give the rest to Master Gee so he can shock the house
I said M-A-S, T-E-R, a G with a double E
I said I go by
just take half and bust 'em out
I give the rest to Master Gee so he can shock the house
I said M-A-S, T-E-R, a G with a double E
I said I go by
Check it out, I'm the C-A-S-A, the N-O-V-A,
And the rest is F-L-Y,
You see I go by the code of the doctor of the mix,
And these reasons I'll tell you
-Big Mike how you livin
Big Mike
I've been sellin out the same dope house since the age of 16
Shufflin crack like cards, to these burnt out dope
Want them nice things
All cause of tennis shoes our
Kids drop out of schools
They said be like Mike, so ball nigga
(that's life)
Now help me understand
able to control this?
I know some fok' that live by the levee
That keep on telling me they heard the explosions
Same shit happened back in Hurricane
out the ground
You be lien to them people tell em what you really bout
Man tell em
Jay and Mike can't rap yeah I said dat
Y'all meat riding them dudes
Tell me, what do you see when you look in my eyes? (Yeah)
Got a lot on my mind
Hopin' I never be goin' out of my mind
Been tryna mature without
you, at the same time want to see you crumble
We gon' hustle rain or sunshine, love to see us rumble
[ VERSE 1: Mr. Mike ]
We out the do', you know
partied man, motha fuckers throwin' up,
motha fuckers fightin' and shitÂ…DJ was whackÂ…
damn bout to party by myself man. Just sit back here and chill out
on
The homie Great John on the beat, by the way
Don't Come Outside, Volume 3 out now
(Great John on the beat, by the way)
I'ma fan Heavenly Father but
ethnic culture they can plug a mike to.
The imperialists rub their hands in glee
As the slave-boy hunts out butt-ends in the garbage cans.
Is it any
court (hmm)
And I don't wanna be, I don't wanna be nothin' like Mike
'Cause even Mike was like it's a itsy bitsy, what? Triflin'
And when you in
Yeah yeah
It's that Funkshway shit
It's the return of the muthafuckin'
That Funkshway shit
Aye
Mike Mike on the beats
Mellow on the mic
I can write
the kitchen
A bunch of damn times
Hittin' while ya daughter do dishes
I'm out my damn mind if you not a fan, fine
But this clearly a decisive win
I got the type
To pick back up Mike
If I don't pick the mic up I might just die
So I'm shooting these demons that's in my mind
So I'm shooting these demons they still
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