Lyrics:
Young nigga can do bad all by himself
Tokyo Drifting without a belt
Switching sides but last time
You ain't neva help
This depression really ain't
ARTHUR: Well, I AM king...
DENNIS: Oh king, eh, very nice. An' how'd you get that, eh? By
exploitin' the workers -- by 'angin' on to outdated
was fifth-teen nigga when I had bought my first pole
I stay strapped like a dyke play with me you get smoked
These streetz a eat yo ass alive boy these
of them bills you worrying about you gon die without it
Come on now you know I'm speaking the truth
See all them J's you got on you gon die without it
who u Are's
Vegiet wat j is dans van j's lus
Lag van j kan...
Hoekom stop die music ek sê auwê slat my man
past this light, just past Van Dyke
Better hit that map right, read them directions, oh yeah
You can't read and you can't write, told me that last night
passion
You couldn't make it through war without rations
You just a homosexual; I think the gay rights movement
Should meet you and then invest in you
low-downs want a lick
If you ain't down with the 'Van, Dyke, get off the Dick
Cause I remember the time, the time, the time you tried
To play me like I
chopper piece
So I phone big cuz for a one chopper, sweet
Just to see if that one chopper beats
By now, you must know what chopper means
Clip black, but
anybody make real shit anymore?
Bow in the presence of greatness
'Cause right now thou hast forsaken us
You should be honored by my lateness
That I
anybody make real shit anymore?
Bow in the presence of greatness
'Cause right now thou hast forsaken us
You should be honored by my lateness
That I
When I walk up in the party, D.J. turn it up
You see my people getting rowdy, D.J. turn it up
You see me grinding on this shawty, D.J. turn it up
You
Bumbu by the case, nigga, fuck you, fly away
Sick shit, blrrrp
Dedicated
To the culture that Tunechi birthed
To the sons and daughters of Weezy
Ada block, you ain't with em
Yes, you ain't my members
Hop out, get em
Shot that glocky, to the rhythm
Bail-out van, chase, we gon' get em
Chasing money
chop it up by the onion
J chop it up, let's keep it a buck, I don't gotta touch
I be boolin with cuz, huh
I be boolin with Buzz, yuh
These fake shooters
Still, was used to abuse
Reaching for the wheel, was a bad idea
Started swerving out the lane
What am, I, without you (I need you)
What am, I, without you
peepholes
I'm suited up in street clothes
Hand me a nine and I'll defeat foes
Y'all know my steelo with or without the airplay
I keep some E&J, sittin'
cheese
So let's talk about Swizz (Swiss)
No, let's not make up a whole bunch
Of lies to get by Cass'
No he didn't sign you over me
Let's not lie Cass'
When
what I'm saying?
When I yank you by the fuckin' arm
Don't be looking at a nigga crazy
Just give up the digits and be the fuck out, you know what I'm
what I'm saying?
When I yank you by the fuckin' arm
Don't be looking at a nigga crazy
Just give up the digits and be the fuck out, you know what I'm
my Vans on
Looking at your lady, as you walk on by
Lookin hella tasty, as she’s waving hi
Head on to my table, cop a couple bottles
Felling hella
peepholes
I'm suited up in street clothes
Hand me a nine and I'll defeat foes
Y'all know my steelo with or without the airplay
I keep some E&J, sittin'
survive without my radio
Terrorising my neighbours with the heavy bass
I keep the suckas in fear by the look on my face
My radio's bad from the Boulevard
one, they scream "X, you retarded?!"
'Cause I grab the mic and get down like syndrome
Hide and roam into the masses
Without boundaries, which
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