Lyrics:
came to drop it
The prophet is to love each other
Michael Jordan/Jackson, Cosby money, Oprah
They got our love by go get Africa
[Lord Superb]
Harmony,
Life’s too short
To play games
Who are mine
I need to know what is real
So I don’t waste my time
Giving my love
To someone that’s cool
Cause I plan to give
to love me like Nelson
I went to Robben's Island analysing, that's where his cell is
So I could find clarity—like, how much you cherish me?
Is this
(all, all that glitters is not gold)
Ma, we here, we gon' cook this Sunday, okay? (And all gold is not reality)
So come by (real is what you lays on me)
how awesome that is
You're honestly G as fuck for that
Love you and thank you
Michael Feen
Best to you and yours
Thanks for convincing us to start
and hate
The second you look away
That smile be off they face
This real ain no debate
Don't fall into their bait
That's why I stick to myself
And I grind by
beside me, this not a hobby
I'm not playing like Crowder, man I'm trying to empower
I use my real power, I'm a smoke em like Fowler
Name big, just like
People change in time, I know just got to dig it
You got the keys to lock it’s no need to pick it
I can still love you and still not be with it
This my
a philostopher 'n see what he says!
Greggery stops at a gas station
And makes a mysterious phone
Is this the old loft
With the paint peelin' off it
By
I use that
Machete to Butch Cassidy by the way
His two faggot ass sons' names
Is Shane and Cassidy bang! That's blasphemy
That's the main catastrophe
sure, there is
A direct, not inferred, reference in
Her lyrics to "salad tossing"
Which, to be clear
Is the act of being anally probed
By someone else's
know that i got gold and stacks|In every cul de sac from the streets to the clubs|I'm making hits and everybody's showing love|Fact is i'm back and i'm
offended by Chri-biip-mas?
You know you might offend the biiiip and the biiiip and the atheists.
What?
Time to politically correct.
I'll lead this off.
real, yeah
I take grams of coke,
Mix it with lactose, that's what I do!
Stretch
I make a ounce a dope
With like a eighth of dope, befo' I'm through!
this D
And I got a second side B in the Mix
Let me put it like this
Ya see, 1 chick aint enough,
Doe my Main chick bad AF,
And I love having you
Blue-Eyed Soul
Lyrics by Stoyan Zachariev
It’s all about the music! It’s all about my Soul Brothers, yeah!
I wrote this song, especially for you!
Blue-Eyed Soul
Lyrics by Stoyan Zachariev
It’s all about the music! It’s all about my Soul Brothers, yeah!
I wrote this song, especially for you!
a blast at her
Silly bitches don't consider your feelings
They make you think the lovin' is real when you chilling
But when you turn away, she gets
& This is like Kanye West through the wire
I Mix this shit up like it's jambalaya
I splash everyday I need new atire
My weed get dropped off by an Uber
a song AND it would
Be on the radio and
Everything my main thought
Is, Damn if I can do this
I'm about to go to the studio
Every night i told Tez
To have
Uncle Sam da grimey on top of da puppets army
I doubt the revo domino effect loudly
You know all what this bacteria want is Syria
They been taming Lybia
souls, rest in peace
That was 1996, we back in the mix
I guess they thought that we'd gon' quit but we got love for this shit
But everything started
who’s the deadliest
This is the first joint we wrote
Speaking of joints
Ima hit this blunt real quick before I sing the first note.
Fettuccine:
I’m
Aheh you don't wanna be
Involved in this one, huh?
This here, this is
This is gonna be a blues number but, first
I wanna do a little bit
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