Lyrics:
on his box
Jack boldly declared, let there be house
And house music was born
I am the seat, I am the creator, and this is my house
And in my house there is
We cop whips with kicks and pinstripe uno
Who wanna test, Mr. Don Dada
Who rock Prada, so go suck ya mumma
See, blow the track out, Jim's in the house
at my house
We can do this like Brutus on a Tuesday night
Can burn some nice hemp and make the place smell right
Could roll you up some trees, could
wanted this
But a voice in my head says "Tom, persist
'Cause you quit school, quit ball
Quit your hometown so if you quit this
There is nowhere to go now"
and then I went to Quincy Jones' house
Realize I didn't have shit, got some work to do
Soon as you get some money, it's gon' be someone with more than you
In the stu- In the studio with silly little guys
This summer
Yo what up welcome to the crib
We got
We got Patrick
We got
We got Teo
Tom and Jerry
[Pitbull]
Hey Jim Jones,
Let's Show These Boys How It Really Goes Down
Hey Lil Jon,
U Know What We Tell These Boys When They Campin Out Wit
on the greatest
Clownin with the paper, got a Bose, a house in Vegas
I guess I gotta say this, I got no regrets
If I could go back in time now I'd go the same steps
Yeah, ayy yeah, ayy
Yeah, ayy yeah
Yeah, ayy mustard on the beat, ho
You know when this song come
On, it's the shit, my nigga
(yeah, ayy) call a few
on top, Tom Cruise
See this whip is bulletproof, this is time for me to choose
Pack my shit, left the house, bought a mic to make it out
Being
It's raining, he's changing
My man is going insane, insane the war is on
On rainy days I sat back and cooked crack
In Bug's house the kitchen light
hard you would think i might of drownded
Please give me space in this game
It's kinda crowded
TOM CRUISE Vanilla Sky shit
I'm kinda clouded
Surrounded
By
far too short to be granted to the modern god David Bowie by this universe
There are two men in my apartment right now cutting up walls with power
im still singing this sad song
Till we understand that the black man to the black fam is the backbone, Black Song
My vicious rhyme I call my masterpiece
And now people in the house this is just for you
A little rap to make you boogaloo
Now the group ya hear is
a Quitter and you bitter cause I came along
And the days of House of Pain are gone
And if you talk about my little girl in a song again
I'mma kill you,
Yeah
What up world
This one of them songs we just got a vibe to
Well let me tell you about this one bitch
That everybody deal with
Man I ain't
song string,
this river coursing through my life,
these wild swipes at meaning.
Now I circle back to look into the spring.
When I was 17 it was 1995.
a celebration huh
Oh is God speaking to somebody in the house this morning huh
See, God said
This is not a time
Of sadness Jones family
This, is a time of rejoice
really show you what I'm on
This that real shit, this is not no ordinary song
Talking hot shit, then spot a beam on yo dome
Fuck all these lame ass niggas,
In this marathon I’m on pace
Running laps around you all day
Get out my way I’m on pace
Catch me if you can, Tom Hanks
In this marathon I’m on pace
This song right here,
Is dedicated to the president of the United States of America
Y'all might know him as George Bush
But where I'm from,
Jones is a pimp I got bitches on track
Send a hoe out on a mission, tell 'em break 'em, bring it back
Got a house in Hawaii, 'bout to, 'bout to buy
us this time around niggas
Feeling me some, huh
Harlem, I got us nigga
Santana, Freaky Zeeky, Jim Jones
Feshon, run with us or run from us or get
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