Lyrics:
Diamond hands hodl hella bands
I invest money very often
Tip toe with this crypto
Feel like Jim Jones way I'm ballin
Big whale I make money moves
In
Lou Ferrigno,
Made by the Nero, look like a zero,
Shine the spotlight, this is my night,
Get your cameras ready, let it rain confetti,
I'm
standards
Thinkin they're the don when they shit comes on
They got it all wrong, tryna step into E's world
They fakin jacks like the bootleg cheese curls
that hate me
But lately, it seems pople make the world go round
From A's to Z, I break 'em down alphabetically
Pethtically, I puts the pressure
the laws patrollin'
Them jackers get rollin'
So they can't out hold it
'Cuz I ain't about to go down
The way that I pull up, I got the jackers lookin' at me
had to get P-A-I-D, that's why my moms hate me
She was forced to kick me out, no doubt
Then I figured out licks went for twenty down South
Packed up
"No,
I wasn't even gonna do a damned show"
Cos for me to change my words from my rhymes
Is never gonna happen cos there's no sell outs on mine
But I
away the key, boys
Mr. Jones is not like you or me
Lock him up, tight
'Cause if he had the chance he might
Show us that we're wrong and that's the one
me You will not never forget about me
I got zippers on my jeans, on my shoes And on my jacket, by the way
These jeans are equipped with a highly daily
on riling shit up
Ivanka call me back so we can finally fuck
You say right, I say wrong
Change your mind or we'll never get along
Whole world's full of anger
that im litty
I be loving off this cheese baby you might as well call me the Mickey
You can be Tom, I can be Jerry
She likes the way i say better
We
for me (Uh)
This nigga right here must got it out for me
(Uh)
'Cause I solemnly swear that we about to see
'Cause this nigga right here must
Got it out
Jones
Smoke rollin' out the window
An ice cold beer sittin' in the console
Memory lane up in the headlights
Has got me reminiscing on the good times
Jones
Smoke rollin' out the window
An ice cold beer sittin' in the console
Memory lane up in the headlights
Has got me reminiscing on the good times
"No,
I wasn't even gonna do a damned show"
Cos for me to change my words from my rhymes
Is never gonna happen cos there's no sell outs on mine
But I
Aye, Jim Jones
Let ya boy Parlae get some of that Harlem clientele
I got more crack than a curb, fuck wit me
I'm iced out and keep snow like an Eskimo
to serve and protect
Myself, because they ain't finna get me
I'm in the club sober as fuck and you won't catch me tipsy
Nigga! Yeah! I'm Mike Jones
Who?
chilling on a dirt road
Laid back swervin' like I'm George Jones
Smoke rollin' out the window
An ice cold beer sittin' in the console
Memory lane up in
you brick
It's what makes me tick
The way the team decided by just one kick
Now do the grand slam, damn
Take you back so far, I got you flyin' Pan Am
I
seems the devil done stole my soul
I'm out for delfia, selfia, P's not helpin' ya
I'm tryna get this Lexus up, and plus a cellular
Yo Big Noyd! (What
of paper stacked so they envy
The way you move in that Bentley now you got more than one enemy
Trying to take you out nope, that's why you ride with ya
Anxiety would be creeping on me
But hold up
I find a way out
It's a cold world
Leave you laid out
Some of my people wrong
Most of my people right
Another
tree
Building this house exactly the way Charlemagne tha God
And Lord Jamar thought it would be
Wait a minute, the Lord and the God hate me
Jesus
what, from who, not me
Get a bullet in ya head leave
That ass on the street
Jack who, Take what, from who, not me
Slip and think you can sleep
- after
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