Lyrics:
I’ve been throwing parties every night
Splurge on every bottle son
I never do it light
Four AM the party is over
They’re all going home
But I’m going
blinded by what's real talkin bout they real
Boy fuck how you feel nigga
This is the Anthem
Fuck how they feel son
Everybody on your top once you sign that
of ease
With extended magazines
"Aye nigga pull to the spot"
School niggas think I been classed
I was in an abandoned project building
Praying that my bill
Nineteen ninety mother fuckin six
That's that shit though
Get the motherfuckin Squad packed
We got to pull these shoes out like carpet, word is
that is some of the worst shit you have ever said to me!
I just ca-
Are you, are you sure that you wanna be talking to your mother that way?
Are yo-
Do
of 'em
Shit
I'm the only motherfuckerwith them got some goddamn talent
Fuck Paul, Grandpa, Mikey, Luc, Dwayne, Bill
Kiss my ass
PUNKS!
Who's your
son, and that's what make it sad
Ain't nobody living perfect in this place we slave
So I can't really blame my mother for the mistakes she's made
You
niggas putting work up in them streets
Play with them they’ll probably rob you while you laying in yo sheets
Yeah I got some fucking fluflamming get
trying to ditch
Well the Amy's in the attic where your husband has left
And you have to pay for the bills of your sickly son's death
Mentally of few,
at their eyes
Life has treated me so bad, son
Sometimes I look happy,
Sometimes I look sad
I feel frustration,
Bringing to my blood some elevation
just had to double down
I just lost a hundred thousand million in my mother's couch
Spin a bag just to make it through my cyclones, woah
Ask me how I
Deezy name just some numbers
Deezy did the shit for his brother
Now Deezy son lost his father
Another single black mother
Now Deezy son lost his father
door
Why she ain't just drag him to the drug store
Then douse him in some alcohol til his mother fucking lungs are sore
Then burn that fucking racist
If
needs (Jesus, Lord)
Sittin' by myself, I'm just thinkin'
About all I've been through, I wish I was dreamin' (Jesus)
Man, it's hard to be an angel
needs (Jesus, Lord)
Sittin' by myself, I'm just thinkin'
About all I've been through, I wish I was dreamin' (Jesus)
Man, it's hard to be an angel
shaven
What I might lack in the paper
Faith in I will surely make up
If you judging others mother's sons
Then you will end up jaded
KY to CO mind state
If you decide you hate me then I'll take that choice, but
I gotta tell you my story before you take make that choice, son
You gotta understand, yeah,
narrows her eyes
Everyone looks at my mother she is one of
If not the most influential
Socialites in the city
He hands her two passes
A red one for her
Karate
Written, recorded, produced, engineered, & performed by Broc Jesch (Breezy)
1st Verse
Ich ni san shi better protect your body chopping
put that on my son and my mother, mane
My brother fronted me, but now I front my brother, mane
They threw me in the dungeon by myself
So lately, I
him up, I hope he got his towel on,
I aim at the moon, and get my howl on.
Some niggas cry wolf, I'm on that dry kush,
And when it comes to that
wagon, knowin' fellas be flaggin' & frontin'
Hopin, by keepin' her gear, wear, & hair dope &
Some really Big Willie nigga'll dig her and get open
And give
He was born a William
But he goes by Bill
He's had some big dreams
And he has them still
Well her name's Samantha
Only he calls her Sam
They
to nun
But now I’m flexing on that bitch and
Got more money than her son
I love my enemies and pray
For those who persecute
You tried to kill me pussy
Discuss these some mothers son by bill whelan Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In