Lyrics:
Oh no the lamp is on I've had an idea
I leave a note on the door saying Tim was here so stay clear
I'm only getting starting but I feel like I'm in
to walk down when they took my dog for real
Put this shit on film my lil' nigga steppin' in some Tim's
Lil' nigga dunking shit Kareem come around put shit
Ah, one, two, three four
The machinist climbs his Ferris wheel like a brave
And the fire-eater's lyin' in a pool of sweat, victim of the heat wave
Ah, one, two, three four
The machinist climbs his Ferris wheel like a brave
And the fire-eater's lyin' in a pool of sweat, victim of the heat wave
that
I shot it right 4 times you cant tell me its not a"live"
I ain't beefin wit none of these niggas all my opps paralyzed
I put my dick up in her
flip a brick but bet that I can move a pound
And if you call yourself the king, well then there's two in town
Regardless where you from, what you do,
live in a zoo I run scandals with savages
All my niggas get together to gather loot
Bodyguard for what dog I'd rather shoot
I go to war old tims
ponytails or either braids
When I was in school
I used to get cool grades
When I graduated, used to smoke two jays
With a fifth of Seagrams
Mixed with some
lived in the ghetto)...or the projects
But I wear my Tim boots and Hi-Tecs, and I wrecks havoc
And if you try to play me I won't have it
a circle
Do them numbers in his head, swear that nigga smart as Urkel (Yeah ho)
Mirror, mirror, should I kill them, gourmet to the Tims (Yeah ho)
400 for
2 Ghetto
intro
Ah grand ma use to make Alcohol and that's how we get our meals
Some times she get beaten by the police and put in jail
Warchild
Sunshine gon' come with rainy days, Codiene take the pain away
Kobe at the three, while down by two, Dwayne gon' fade away
I know they hate I made
And for the niggas selling cocaine, you're to blame
Black people lives ain't the same
And that's the tale in my hood
Niggas is up to no good
You better
One's for the money two's for the weed spot
Undercover cops follow me though
They need not it's like I'm Rick James
Caught in the mix rocking thick
by Satan
Then your face was stepped on and
Shaved with the weapons of Jason
Left in the rain til the leprosy sank in
Left to be eaten by featherless
to disagree
Six songbooks written
By the time I was fifteen
Born in the middle class
Success never guaranteed
I used to wonder why
The older folks never made it
Yuh murder murder murder murder
Woah live learner bridge burner
What?
Inverter rim churner
Yuh big headed Tim Turner
Niggas be faking depression
Islam (Ḥadjdj from India) Featuring Simon Novsky & DJ Ernie G.
Written by Bobby Ray Sparks II & Simon Novsky
BOBBY SPARKS MUSIC (BMI), SIMON NOVSKY
the ones u call blood
Fighting all these demons in a cell
All by myself
They ask me how I live
Like death was getting prepared
Just let me know...
I hide
stash in that new Accord
(It is)
I was in the palm trees
Y’all was in the snow (In the snow)
And two million in cars, your WCW my ho
(Nigga, that's my
it with labels that make you go blind
Line up for hours til shits released you out your mind
Call it fashion so you blastin just to be flashin
Live in
held accountable, so instead I pass the blame,
besides I wanna live forever like the cast of fame.
serious trouble will pass me by and my life will be
somewhere between
Do I hold a grudge
Am I slow to judge
Are my words like steel
Or do they bend and yield
Do I chase my dreams
Or have they died in me
I live
John McCain, you can't lift your arms up
These po-ranhas, live by a certain code of conduct
Fuck fly hoes and blow ganja
He a prophet, predict shit
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