Lyrics:
of mine from way back, Dr John
Yeah.
We're gonna do this-a, we're gonna do this song
That was written by a, while back by this-a British-a trumpet
were over at his house
This night we weren't so lucky though
He got this idea in his head, he started yelling
"Mike, you shot me in the game! That's
what you mean what you talking bout?
I was with the gang with my glock by the waffle house
Told her watch her tone when she talking, why she talking
getya
On this song
Be smokin up
Like tommy chong
Listen close
Ya cant go wrong
And i wont forget
Who put me on
Some of these rappers
Don't belong
Buffing
sleepy
And believe me, when I'm up in there I'm beatin' it
Givin' ya that Mike Jones' treatment
I could tell by the way she walk that she got it
Body
A song called Highway Star, this one.
Nobody gonna beat my car
I'm gonna race it to the ground
Nobody gonna beat my car
It's gonna break
In this house of cards, I reach for the stars
No blueprint to guide me, just the open sky
With a song in my heart, and the stars above
I'm building
[Chorus - Kobe]
Hey little mama, little mama, I got some of that Bon Jovi
You know me
Have you flying in the air like you living on the pent house
We
through plexi glass
There ain't no bail outs in this jail house
Ain't no more petty cash
Easy come, easy go
A penny saved, a penny earned
And I've
Times have changed
for the better
You like to say
Nice house in the country
Now you're on your way
You took advantage of our possibilities
Got
of Bill,
And Johnny's lads stand very still.
With the thumpire's shout, they all start to clout
- there's no guns in this gentleman's bout.
Georgie moves
a poem
Like lighting is thrown
Don’t leave me alone
Put love in this song
So long to what’s wrong
And only what’s right
From day to the night
Night
mouth
Young nigga eatin' off them plastic forks
I could send a couple
Goons through your house
Live by the gun, you gon' die by that sword
Ayy, yay, yeah
Yo, yo, this Ma$e, you know what I'm sayin'?
You got niggas that don't like me for whatever reason
You got niggas that don't wanna see me rich
You
Yo, yo, this Ma$e, you know what I'm sayin'?
You got niggas that don't like me for whatever reason
You got niggas that don't wanna see me rich
You
hawa other bitches
They be acting on me
They don't feel my music
They just tryna cap
Jones tryna make mama proud of me
Nimnunulie a car or house yall
in the girdle (well, damn)
Say he got beef with me I never heard of
Rockin' some kicks that don't come out 'til April
This bitch droppin' songs who
trippin'
Can't pretend when this is real as it gets, can ya?
If shit hits the fan, I Ron Artest niggas
This how I'm living, getting tatted in some house
about you
Writing a song on this old guitar
Every time I leave my house, I end up finding out
That your getting drunk now, letting Brian up under your
of the ocean
But with a stone face
No place on this world that you don't belong
We're all quietly singing our own little song
But not out loud
Nobody want
and run with chrome
My name ain't Edward Jones, but that's the only thing I want is dome
One by one, your homies leave, go to jail, some you ain't see
When I was just a kid
My mommy used to teach me this song
Oh, oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh yeah
This train carry no back-biters (This train)
This train
dinner
Clung to our lives
Are you inspired by struggle?
Nights that we almost died
You just bumpin' every song but this isn't your life
You just bumpin'
bakin' soda, this home improvement
She bring the .9 by two
I fuck on that ho and came back on her (go)
It look like she went got a new BBL
Oh, now
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