Lyrics:
prayers
My penmenship is like a AK with extended clips
Production is like explosives that’s constructed by The Premonist
I see the vultures that would hover
on the train tracks
Never seen a dead body so we came back
You ever seen a dead body
With his brain splat
C'mon I'll show you it's over
Here where we hang
own dirt
Dwelling the memories that is the energy literally
Feelings emotions the moment don't matter when isn't me
My ladies out there say nigga over
Yeah, say, Dick, where you at?
Ayy, I'm about to come get in your face
(Ayy, find me two niggas)
(Find me the one that can say he stuck his dick
Like it's a head-on collision
I heard from reliable source
Told me the ball's in my court
Like it's survivor's remorse
So on the mic I'm gonna kill it
niggas flip shit
And farm the shit with a bad ass yellow bitch
Eight-Ball translation three and a half
You not affiliated nigga if you have to ask
jeans made by Oprah,
in your house on your sisters wall is my poster,
f-cking models, doing shows just like I supposed ta,
my lifestyle extravagant,
temptation tells you that's the trick
You can try to climb outside the walls, but first you got to find your balls
The damn things got to be around here
takin' life as a gamble
And living in the rotten apple yo where every core is rotten
All my niggas rest in peace ya see you gone but not forgotten
Ladies and Gentlemen, children of all ages
Step right up and get your tickets to the greatest show on earth
Where you'll witness death defying
get with this or you can get with that
theres money over here bitch this is where its at
my paper can't fold
it gotta stay stacked
so you can get with
And the rich kid who had ball bearing skates and a bike
And down near the school I could see the brick wall
Where we used to go for a game of handball
everybody, c'mon we out
Took her to the six dollar hole in the wall
And I like how she's holdin' the balls
Gobble, gobble from the incision
Stuff that bitch
hundred and ninety nine
When I aim and fire my rhymes, like a hundred cannon balls flying
Striking you one at a time, in a parallel line
While the art
I'm walkin' over yellow lawn
The day it is still sleeping
Yellow sun brings the dawn
Mother earth is weeping
I kick off my sensible shoes
I
have
Grown exponentially indiscernible
Behind a picture in the wall or
At the local pissing hole
Where desperate images sully every
Second an empty coat
I'll be makin' straight dome calls
Touch the button on the wall, you'll be pickin' up your own balls
I can still hear my mother shout
"Hit the pig
in the trunk
With a ball gag
And roll them up
Like burritos inside of tarp wrap
Taking them down into the woods
To my cabin in the back
Next to where
While I float on baby in my pirate ship
With my sails full blown I'm so Irie bitch
No courtesy
How you live with that.
Money over bullshit tell me where
All these bitches moraless
They know that I'm over blessed
Shawty where your morals at
Yeh eeh yeah
Shawty where your morals ah -at
I confined
them, too
Ordinarily I might joke around on the stage (yeah)
Funny motherfucker, class clown, 12th grade
Sometimes I might overstep my boundaries (hm)
try to call me over the hill
It's probably cause you saw me chillin' beside a pile of paper
Life's a Picasso painting, psyche, my life's more like
innuendo
Then I bid you adieu as I fit you in my enterprise
We're from in the middle where nxggas pay no gratuity
Where the wind'll skin you where you hide
The whole worlds talking out their arse so the toilet papers stocked
Don't be shocked, when you get rocked
By a yellow fucker with the black ball, in a red
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