Lyrics:
C's, wit two guns in my holster
I'm from Long Beach city, a crip next to Compton
Down wit my n*gga Game, if you n*ggas want problems
From the streets
voice
But I brought two friends along
And next on the mic is my
Man Hank come on, Hank, sing that song:
Check it out, Well
I'm Imp the Dimp the ladies
Shit you won't find at old navy, two hundred zero ad
Still live shit, spit to divide cliques on some wise guy shit
Same chick from the ? , pretty eyes
known at the time for hits from Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam and they had this massive hit by the Backstreet Boys, All I Have To Give. Every so often I rip him
tides…
[Verse 1]
'Cause she's an old,
Indigo soul,
We come from the same stars,
I already know.
Because I see the sunburst,
Hanging on her words every
America gone plastic
And now there's Dylan dripping from his mouth
He's hitching himself way down south
To learn a little black and blues
From old
the same
Many missing from the game
And the stories that we told
And these rappers getting old
Take a poll it was gold
I'm 60 years old
I got it on record
Bhek' Reporting live from Katlehong
And I just farted on the throne
Been here so long I made it home
Been here since I was barely grown
I-waar ukuth'
Of Cali-for-nia, Sactown to L.A.
The homie Aidge, Indy 1, Spare Time on display
We making music even though we don't live close by
Phone calls, emails, long texts,
you
Now I'm standin' in a crowd full
Of strangers in my city
With some kid from California
Singin' Conway Twitty in my feelings
'cause I'm feelin' like
to spit a lot of game
But back then, I was just saying my name
I had a record player, on my stereo
Got down on my knees with my radio
From Oakland
back then, I was just sayin' my name
I had a record player on my stereo
Got down on my knees with my radio
From Oakland, California with some new shit
niggas gonna see
These MCs ain't the same as me
I had a Grime hit in 2003
God gave me a body and blessed it
You see, my fingers they made Duppy, Private
grab a cuppa and stick your earplugs in
'cause yeah this one's nasty
So
I'm probably playing this song live right now in some grotty Swindon pub
It
Niggas has to hate the outcome (yeah)
Plus I'm in a throwback from the same year they assassinated Malcolm
[Paul Cain]
Make so much ends, I got
it's worth I got the right net
Sittin' here excited by some shit that ain't write yet
No regret, live by a code you don't know 'bout
Y'all niggas
Niggas has to hate the outcome (yeah)
Plus I'm in a throwback from the same year they assassinated Malcolm
[Paul Cain]
Make so much ends, I got
Niggas has to hate the outcome (yeah)
Plus I'm in a throwback from the same year they assassinated Malcolm
[Paul Cain]
Make so much ends, I got
understand, someone who feels the same.
When you live in a cookie cutter world being different is a sin.
So you don't stand out. And you don't fit in. Weird.
Niggas has to hate the outcome (yeah)
Plus I'm in a throwback from the same year they assassinated Malcolm
[Paul Cain]
Make so much ends, I got
voters blue notes
Not standards
New hunnid glues
I see you doin' the dances, gave you two other chances
You do the math
Big-belly Buddha laughin'
the same
And without her, you got no one else to blame
But yourself, but yourself
And all I can do is just write a song about her
And hope that one
The year's boutta change
Think of who done changed up the years
Sure we got gifts and the snow songs
But think of where matter done came from
It
touchin' more diesel than Shaq old lady boy
You did it I done it I get I punish
The shit that I come wit'll separate a rib from a stomach
I'm the boss
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