Lyrics:
Yeah, it's time to wake up
Wake up and cake up
It's 187.4 FM on your dial
The number 1 station via satellite, CD, radio and your stereo
********************
Well its high noon at the U.K. corral,
& its high time I got myself back on the rails,
I'm the lonesome cowboy, ridin across
gun in the back
Twisted barren branches
Break up a cloudless sky
Time’s running out
As the miles roll by
When the boys got to the farm house
It was
on my seat
Ten-thousand-dollar toe rings, featured by me
Bitches know it's time out
They be fucking me so good, I be like 'Time out'
They want to fuck
lesson
Do not mess with Lil Big Boy
Smith and Wesson
With a fully loaded clip
Takin lives what I do
This is it
You chose a life
That you know you'd never
chauffer
Who woulda knew
Man I used to get whipped by the Smiths and the Wilsons
Now I'm in the whip with the Smiths eating Wilsons
You would probably think
another bitch
I do this shit all on my own
Smith and Wesson .45 on me
So please stay in your zone
Forgiatos for them niggas
That we're always by my side
at Darlington.
How in the world could a nine-year-old child
hit 197 in a time trial?
The man said Momma ought to be ashamed...
"but by the way son, tell us what's
time I get older (ay, ay, ay)
I got a chip on my shoulder
Ocean's Eleven, MAC-11 make you play with your life
By the sea let you die
Throw you in
staggered out into the snow
And left a stain that didn't go
Until it was found in four million and three
By descendants of Smith
His snuff box and his
F#m D E
When you were standing helpless on the outside of the door
Bm E A
And you started
A C D A
Come you ranks of labor, come you union core,
C D A
And see if you remember the struggles of before,
F#m D E
When you were standing
to show what time it is
At the rooftop, I was with Doug E.Fresh and Slick Rick
'La Di Da Di, Who likes to party?' was the fat shit
I mean I saw this
So Fine Featuring J. Rob, Isaiah Sharkey & Eric Gales
Written by: Bobby Ray Sparks II & Antoine Smith
BOBBY SPARKS MUSIC (BMI), ANTOINE SMITH
MIXED
frame, books and shelves, not afraid by myself
Metal strings, glowing tubes, Bessie Smith sings the blues
Key and lock, dirty clothes, misunderstood poets
up at the stars
For a couple hours, turned off all the lights on the cars
The world was ours it was yours
It was mine
The time flew by like it was
you’ll ever play
Limousine is standin’ by
We get inside and drive a while
F.M. station soundin’ good
And gettin’ better every mile
Hotel lobby looks
know why cause I was
Frivolous but now I’m a saver
I’m a hustler by nature
I can sell bread to a baker
Sell a fence to my next door neighbour
I wanna buy
minutes
Its been like five minutes, I walk out the room followed by nine dimes
I can't even lie me and you surely had some fine times
Now you rocking
Yeah no fu fu lame shit nigga only gang shit
By the way Scotty Way
Aye I Get bitches while I'm getting paid
Oh he stole my flow guess its time
For
these rappers mumbling making millions
The one time I drop a single, don't nobody seem to hear it
Ya'll so iffy, streakier than JR Smith against
(BBK Ran)
Dont come rollin in my section
Yea this shit gone get hectic
We gone lay that pussy down
Hit him with that smith n wesson
Leavin stains all
[Hook by Blam]
This is sumtn' 4 urrbody get yo' hands up
On the grind, money on yo' mind get yo' grands up
If you on top getting hella guap stand up
shouted on chain gangs
Pain they felt, but it helped them to maintain
Scott Joplin's rags, Bessie Smith's blues
St. Louis blues, they were all the news
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