Lyrics:
blast through the house
A war was going on, I was told
And some songs had meanings the
Government did not want
Deciphered those "anti
Songs" were
To my ex I don’t have no explanation, sorry
If you can’t lift me up like Bob Marley we don’t need to be like
Steve Harvey, always feuding don’t drive me
Chillin with all my ice, rocks, and all those drop tops
I wanna whip in a nice car that comes with all the options
Spec it out just how I want while I
and y'all see them
If y'all compare y'all not serious
I've got that tzz tzz Tom Ford
I've got that tzz tzz black orchid
I've got that tzz tzz Bob Mar
With
be the dopest, please then roll me up, I'll be good
Y'all see us, and y'all see them
If y'all compare, y'all not serious
I've got that tzz-tzz, Tom
we are fragile and would be damaged by
An encounter with the thing we dread
The active variety is something most
Of us have experienced at
Some point
The halls were filled with publicists and
Escorts who had to pretend not
To be dazzled by those
They were escorting minaj
Had walked in a few minutes before
[Ghostface Killah]
God's woman, what's going on?
I know things seem messed up sometime
You stressed out and you can't handle the situation
keep those songs alive
Those boys deserve some credit, don't forget it
Hit it, hit it
I go window cleaning, to earn an honest bob
For a nosey parker,
eggs Benedict
Pigs lick shit, rip with words in a bismol energy
It's time I society beats release
Inner breathlessness, outer restlessness
By
words in a bismol energy
It's time I society beats release
Inner breathlessness, outer restlessness
By the time I caught up to freedom I was out
closer
Made me a little tom boy like he was supposed to
Tearing up the place blowing weed in my face
Irresponsible to death parents stayed on his case
Asics, (coke test) I ace it
I been rich, since 20, bitch
Gun right by the cash (what's that?) the money clip
This Gucci kicker got your girl in nuddy
We're doing a sequel
We're back by popular demand
C'mon on everybody, strike up the band
We're doing a sequel
That's what we do in Hollywood
neckin' in my tomb
Check it out yo, I smile like Groucho Marx
I make a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
Play me like a punk like Penguin
caution to the wind and they jumped on 66
On down through Missouri and the Oklahoma prairie
But when they crossed the Texas line things got a little scary
Ain't no talkin' little baby
in my Maserati
Ain't got no License but I woke up in a new Bugatti
Hands up, money out
Baby this is a robbery
Hands up,
to be gained
So hey, Bubba Ray and Joe Bob
Y'all, better get down here real quick
Drive, those pickup trucks to Huntsville
'Cause they're fixin' to put
a little bit of love
like to make a little bit of music
Look at that, it's a desk, just kidding Bob, it's a table
I don't care about rules!
Hi, what's
That Vladimir Dukelsky (15) said, "Gee!"
My fingering a certain string
Was such a big thing
That Fanny's cousin Annie's
Taking lessons from me
I'm quite
And everything 'bout you
Smoke filled lungs tonight
And every body else got it every night
Well why's it only gotta be you and I
Few little things
Few little
twisting the sterile canvas snoot of
a fully-charged icing anointment utensil. And every time a nice little muffin comes
by on the belt, he poots forth...
a thing
'Cause every little thing is gonna be alright
Rise up this morning, and smiled with that rising sun
Those three little birds pitched by my doorstep
neckin' in my tomb
Check it out yo, I smile like Groucho Marx
I make a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk
Play me like a punk like Penguin
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