Lyrics:
That was some September several bands by Christmas
Fuck these niggas I'm just running laps
Writing raps while I'm bussing traps
Wish I was fucking
Rockin' for the 845
When we skateboard by
Gotta stay more fly
Than the next one
Waiting on our shit
Keep it hot
Hold it down for the squad
'Cause you
(Viben er nostalgisk og du vet det)
(Se meg fly høyt i sky hvor vi lever)
Det her er Nutshack, er du skækk eller?
Meg og gutta er på shit som gir
Life goes on in the streets of my hood when you die
But some cry, and gets by, while others choose to wonder why
His life was took at such an early
your gung ho got'cha niggas by your side
And the topic of your every conversation's let's ride
But let's take 5 and then put that shit aside
But you
shit, talkin to my frat on the
phone Cuzzo let's do this hit the mall
Cop the Levi's, all of the loose fit She came by herself to my crib, baby it's
too
but
I'm a be a J-U double G-A-L-O by killin' every body
I call myslef a jugglao 'cause my face painted y'all go ahead and kill the scene
We'll come
by the club swerve, you wit ya girl swerve
A nigga move swerve, all my thugs swerve
[Chorus]
You ain't never had shit (uh uh) swerve on em
For ya
and ridin' 4s
So you can just say that I'm ridin' high
Ridin' fly on my pilot shit, first class
Continental
Double cup full of sleepin' potion
Sweet full of LA
bitches in my bed
Super fly... Super cool
Dorreace known to keep a tool
12 behind me... Do the race
That shit there will never fail
We was riding with that
with no fear but I fly high
Fly high
We can all fly high
Fly high
Fly high
We can all fly high
Fly high
Fly high
Someone died in a drive-by mudslide
or die like Bed-Stuy through the red sky
With the window of the red eye
Let the lead fly, on some G. Rap shit, "livin' to let die"
This morning, I
or die like Bed-Stuy through the red sky
With the window of the red eye
Let the lead fly, on some G. Rap shit, "livin' to let die"
This morning, I
We push this art like it's some trap shit
We're putting Memphis on the map
We're driven up in these streets
By music cook, eat, repeat
Shit's crazy
thinking about her curves
She fuck with mayo but she cozy on my lap you better swerve
Rolling some j's and fly to the moon
Meet her on the way might go
Send mo pictures and make me some more riches
To all the suckers on the block talkin' shit while I was locked up
Be prepared to get socked up
'Cause
to the most high
Drove by
On a mission like it's '05
Henny' bottle, Fendi belt
My shit is felt
I was locking in
Six months without no help, it was routine
bein' too fed call me on the text free
Lately I been by my lonely kickin' shit Jet Li
I ain't gotta buy a Birkin shawty give the neck free
She want me
Ridin' round with that heavy yeah
F&n side by side, but I wasn't 'posed to tell you that
Gon' let them bullets fly just like a pelican
Somebody pray for
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
on the wall im by my lonesome
Holding a burner boy I fuck around and toast them
Diamonds ocean in the droptop im coasting
Took so many J's to the face I'm
Det her er Nutshack er du skækk eller
Meg og gutta er på shit som gir deg hax level
Ti av ti glir forbi helt i symmetri
Goddamn denne låta er vår
on my ceiling
Said fuck the school I couldn't go I hade to make a decision
Was by my lawyer in that court room tryna send me to prison
Yo brother die up
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