Lyrics:
S.U.C., I eat wit DJ Michael Watts
I don't wanna be in a rap group, I'd rather do me alone
Everybody so surely, I'm so glad that boy Lil Boosie is home
I
just kickin' shit
Grab the papers no discussion, we need that when we puffin'
And kickin' shit, you know kickin' shit
Don't be mad at what I say or try
a slice that you know he's greater
What's my DJ's name, Cut Creator
Now you know, what do you know, Earl roles the weed
I go to the store and get Old
a slice that you know he's greater
What's my DJ's name, Cut Creator
Now you know, what do you know, Earl roles the weed
I go to the store and get Old
It's your boy, ISYG, let's get it Y'all know what this is, I'm Comin' for your
Heads and puttin' em on my wall Ha, c'mon Mike, yo, let us cook
Yo,
presidential on my wrist
In my big face Rollie when fly by bitch
Ain’t no tic toc in, my wrist watch
This a big face Rollie not a Michael Kors watch
I got a big
wanna be like Michael
A lot of money, just feel like Pablo
Fam, be careful what you say
Or will you talk to my rifle
I'm kinda evil, like a Diablo
Me
My plug got they PHD
Talk that shit you gon RIP
Or you getting picked up by an EMT
I be shootin' shots like Cp3
Slide in a bitch like DvD
Finna make
want Michael Kors
Had been fly like a birdie the ball was flying off course
I was tryna be earnest they wanted earnings reports, well (ha ha)
They said
Yeah, fuck that shit
You are watching a master at work (yeah)
This what you all been waitin' for ain't it?
Rap game homie, I been waitin' for
ask what are we doing
But I ain't got all the answers like Kanye told Sway just disturbed by the injustices
Of our day and some of the things some
little body-adi-adi (do you want it?)
Girl I wanna freak your body-adi-adi (what you want it?)
I just wanna take you home with me
She get it from her
you were, last night
I was chilling on my own, thinking you're alone
You were having sex with your ex-girl
I got a
Life ain't is what seems to be
This automatic shitting on these niggas
And I heard that they be hating
I ain't tripping on these niggas
Make it rain on all them hoes and
Have it
And by myself I lay em' out and iron out the irony
What a long winding road it's been
With no sign of slowing up around its turns and bends
How many
And by myself I lay em' out and iron out the irony
What a long winding road it's been
With no sign of slowing up around its turns and bends
How many
Halle Berry did Michael Ealy
I'm spittin' pollaseeds (I'm spittin' pollaseeds)
I crack 'em one by one 'cause I don't wanna be greedy
Cause the salt
arms
Hear us, too much pain on earth
No place to store with, we drown or burning
Six by ten prison cells we've earned
Occasionally there would be one who
Michaelson.
I once heard a noise, In the night the most sentuaint voice,
The song of love from an angelic boy, stuck in my head,
And this is what he said
catch em at night
Send his soul flying yeah just like a kite do
That boy gone see what that light bout
Trapping I never got caught by the jakes
Nigga I
that say that say that
Catch me californicatin' on vacation down in Florida
Used to get 'em by the quarter now I get 'em by the border
We had bricks
diamond cheese twists
Rub up on my body, so I call her my mistress
You ain't nothin' like me, you will never be this
Masked up, you can call me Michael
them
And she hangs by her words to her life
She says
I swear I love my husband
I love my kids
I wanted to be like my mother
But if I hadn't done
Thought you had what I needed baby
Pass around for the team yeah lately
You was down bad when you lied to me, shady
Sold me dreams in the ville, yeah baby
_(5648207117).jpg/300px-Michael_Franti_and_Spearhead_@_Fremantle_Park_(17_4_2011)_(5648207117).jpg "Michael Franti & Spearhead")
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