Lyrics:
Thirty three recorded miracles. Thirty two paths of wisdom. Thirty one equal frequency ratios. Thirty Celsius degrees. Twenty nine years to orbit the sun.
a man
When I met Ann, I soaked her pans
We ended up freakin' by garbage can
The next young freak I met was Red
I took her to the house and she gave me
You's a little nigga fit right up in a 6 by 3
Layin' up like this
Lips sewn shut eyes closed
Niggas walk past the casket damn shorty nice pose
You was
San Anselmo
My waitress my waitress my waitress
Said it was coming down
Said it hadn't happened in over thirty years
But it was laying on the ground
freakin' by garbage can
The next young freak I met was Red
I took her to the house and she gave me head
She likes to freak was all she said
We jumped in
I've got a house down by the ocean
The rent is not too high
And I love to watch the ships come in
And hear the seagulls cry
And lately I've been
Rollie shinin', fifty thou'
Copped the whip and the house
All these hoes in my ride
Might just get a DUI
Never told, never lie
Got my whole squad by
by a garbage can
The next young freak I met was Red
I took her to the house and she gave me head
She likes to freak is all she said
We jumped in
by a garbage can
The next young freak I met was Red
I took her to the house and she gave me head
She likes to freak is all she said
We jumped in
bitches each direction like they letters
And if you open up, we gone know everything you tell her
Thirty poppa gang
And all we know is bang
It's deeper than
a man
When I met Ann, I soked her pans
We ended up freakin' by garbage can
The next young freak I met was Red
I took her to the house and she gave me
It's my favorite time of the year
Ready set go no fear
And ima do what I want cause I can
And ima drop it low for my man
Ah Ah
Ima live my best life
Wa alaikum as salaam
Whatever your religion, kiss the ring on the Don
Real nigga, street certified, hit the streets whip cost three thirty five
No
ways
One hundred loving ways
There are one hundred ways to love a cat
One hundred loving ways
Way thirty-three: don't let them chew on power cords
One
Shootin' dice, I done hit for ten thousand
I was in a gamblin' house
For three days straight
My mans came to look for me
Make sure I'm safe
I laughed so hard
You see I can't stop I won't stop
'til I check a mil I need a super bad bitch
And a house on the hill
365 7days I believe crack pays
My
You see I can't stop I won't stop
'til I check a mil I need a super bad bitch
And a house on the hill
365 7days I believe crack pays
My
of being a famous DJ just to find that I'd hate it
Always traveling, never home
Late nights in those stale clubs
With burnt out thirty years olds
And people
You can keep the house
Didn't wanna move in, anyway
Thirty years ahead
And you still wanna play it safe
Y'know, winter's gone
But you're too cool for
a flame
A blue flame jumping off a gas stove
Somebody lit i was three years old
I felt fear, real fear
For the first time in my life but i
Remember it also
for a ounce a Kush
Three Fifty for a pair of jeans
And thirty thousand for a charger
(Take it all you need me)
Two hundred for all cops on the first
be lying
Ran in his trap, only had three ounces
Left a nigga dead by the duplex houses
You a ho nigga wearing skirts and blouses
Trap off vaco's
buried six feet deep (Buried six feet deep)
And they also discovered three neglected kids in that house
All of them under three years old (Under three
Your clothes all torn and your face is dirty
Eighteen years old lookin' like you're thirty, ha ha ha ha ha ha
Yo listen, listen, Kid can we say,
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