Lyrics:
I have something wrong with my phone
All of my hoes and all of my friends blow
Everywhere I go, I let it blow, I let it blow
You know I get in my
keep taking all my friends here
Go and blow a bag for all the homies that can’t shed tears
M-Press Live's verse:
They always gon be mad at you
No matter
cribs with kids and blow wigs back
Police is grimy, lookin' like "try me"
Ready to lock me up, ridin' by me
I just put my game face on
Five of us
roll by I got nothing on me
'Cause the smoke's already in the air
I am looked up with two braids in my hair
All start with the kaki suit
I'm gonna
was born in a lower class, where gangsters with dough amass
And police would ask questions, but we never answered when asked
Momma bitching while my
to the end
Bravehearts blow the lye with Henn, and still rise
Took alive with live men, my man got three six-to-eighteen's
and only five in, the Belly
sacks
'Cause of these paragraphs I'm pushing police all on my back
But I stay twisting swishers by the pack and I'ma always keep my
Hat cocked top
feds bitch
Please don't reach for my motherfucking jewelry or else I'll cock the glizzy
Automatic glock up on my hip you reach I'll let it blow
This not
Keep yo hands up out my pockets
Cause I'm shooting now
Got to keep niggas in check
Watch how I do it now
We don't live by rules
We shoot in
poured an 8 on this zombie town
And it cost to move, 'cause when I had jaded
Make sure you sure two clip when you run down (ay)
Police keep takin' my
bond
I say renzo whats hatten
You told me be ready if it happen
Now im the man gotta blow up in rapping
Had to pick up my feet i ain’t got time for
by the distribution
What’s yo location?
Ugh ye what’s yo location? Where you at? Oh yea huh
I love it when the flowers come in iced out
I’m so addicted
store is right there on that corner
Rest in peace my homie died on that corner
Youngin' caught his first case right on that corner (right on that
got damn zone
I don't need no Got damn help I'll put the work in by my Goddamn self
I grind all the time for my got damn wealth, getting straight
as men
Either Rawkus Isle Four Shone or San Quinn
Where my life end fuck doin time in the pen
I'd rather die fuck time in the pen secret indictment
I'm
or sum'
So - gather together, let's go cause we on a hunt or sum'
On the Run on the streets
I am wanted by the police
So I had to release my dogs
Call the police on myself
I first degree this beat on purpose
This instrumental need a surgeon
Dr. Miami, I body all you bitches
All my verses come with
a souped up tempo
I'm on a roll, it's time to go solo
Rollin' in my 5.0
With my ragtop down so my hair can blow
The girlies on standby
Waving just
This is the day they try to re-enslave us
Grow my hair long, Angela Davis
So I can get recognized by the space invaders
Storm troopers, have you heard
trash hoes
I flash dough at the laws when they pass slow
I mash low in a stolen hot RAV-4
The Macks blow bullet holes for my cash flow
Is that so?
(Hook
am
I bring the thunder like Jeremy lamb
Stealing my style ain't gone help you get bands
Yo bitch use blow me kisses from the stands
Now it turns out
was hustlin' in front of
Called the police on me
When I was just tryin' to make some money to feed my daughter (yeah)
And all the niggas in
a souped up tempo
I'm on a roll, it's time to go solo
Rollin' in my 5.0
With my ragtop down so my hair can blow
The girlies on standby
Waving just
Whitney, my mama as a witness
Bitches lickin' and locking up my Swishas
Once she blow my whistle
She know it's dismissal
Spread the news I'm official
.jpg/300px-Afroman_@_Gainesville_2011_(3).jpg "Afroman")
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