Lyrics:
past that
Coming into the new millenium, we can't forget our elders
I got off the 2 train in brooklyn on my way to a session
Said let me help this woman
nigga let me hit that there hemp, do your thing
How many woofers in your trunk? 4 15s
[Chorus]
cause they yet the get drill or come of age
The messages I sent were all rehearsed
Every thing I sent to her i sent to dixon fisrt
So he checked
That i
last 100 dollars and that shits crazy to me
It's not because I needed music out I needed therapy
Demons are getting to me I just hope that they don't get
tight
They give you death homie choose life
When they gonna choose right
See it's God that makes the moves right
So you should follow in his true light
feelings with
and it's the realest thing I'd experienced in my short existence
and I ain't afraid to admit
cause love is one of the things that doesn't come
slum computer wizard
Tappin' inside my rap vein causes blizzards
The wildlife that kills for ice trife, like by the digits
Gorillas injected with
Coke in a can is the only thing that’s shook
Get out ya pen out and book
I said it
What I said don’t forget it
them man there finger batty then
shows me that you care
Below the mason dixon line down there where the girls are fine
Sure know how to tree me you just make me feel so good
Southern
just keeps coming around
So for me it's that smell and those memories and the feeling
Whatever else I can make with my hands
Gabe
This is Gabe
And my
#2: It could be carried by an African swallow!
GUARD #1: Oh, yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not a European
swallow, that's my point.
GUARD #2:
Big up my dealer, they know he's a savage
Real life hustler, moving the green no cabbage
Now he's made it a habit
He ain't even violent, only moves
As I look into the future
I see some things I ain't used to
Leave me stoned like Medusa
But money don't do stuck
Me and my change on the move up move
before coming of age
Everybody Move
Chillin by my lonesome me, myself, and I let's have a foursome
Take these words and let them fornicate
Off
got a dub
Bitch I move by the moon
Smoke like the sun
I know that I don't need a tomb
I don't need a gun
Because this world is hell already but we do
Oh someone taught
Your walls to talk
But if they ask me
I ain't heard a thing
Back to the wall, bat to the ball, back to the drawing board
Oh someone taught
Your walls to talk
But if they ask me
I ain't heard a thing
Back to the wall, bat to the ball, back to the drawing board
Played by me, there's no rules
True wit and grit and everything I do
As I name tag pop under everything I drew
So vivid within them studios, I'm Michael
Real nigga yea that’s me to the core
Dirty Jersey I live by the shore
And I’m tryna get dipped in Dior
I’m just giving my thanks to The Lord
Never
Analyze the plug and the things
He could do for me, ghost
Let's go
Anytime I talk, you know the truth spoke
(You know the truth spoke)
Any rapper that ever
friends's hammer and the young shall
not know where lieth the things possessed by their fathers that their
fathers put there only just the night before ...
Things that make you go, hmm
I was in the crib, sittin' by the fireplace
Drinkin' cocoa on the bear skin rug
The door bell rang, who could it
Things that make you go, hmm
I was in the crib, sittin' by the fireplace
Drinkin' cocoa on the bear skin rug
The door bell rang, who could it
bitches be fake
Make a wrong move, well damn he dead
I'm sippin' on lean, make me frozen
She be like Gabe yeah you chosen
I wonder why these bitches dub me
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