Lyrics:
promise y'all, soon I'll be living in a mansion, At my shoot my pants
Ripped when I was dancing, My friend at that time gave me clothes, she like, here,
That's science y'all! You're welcome!
Oh I'm glad oh, of my shadow
It follows me everywhere
But without light, or fire glow
Disappears into thin air!
pants - keeping fit, y'all!
What's that? what's this? You want to see more?
Come with me right through this door!
What other animals will we see there?
million
Going for it all like the ball on 4th and inches
Young ghetto child
Through it all I'm still living
Fuck y'all!
Pressure
What you going do when
Six million flammable liquids mixed
In a gallon jug drop a match and run
Blast that castle to a cloud of dust
Mama wasn’t proud of us
She say ‘Y’all are
breath, and breathe...
Release
This ain't no fantasy dream...
Black folx, we're capable of any and all things
Look, y'all, at all we've achieved
I'm in King Jean, this ain't caviar
Movin' like the president, everything A1
Why you wanna hate on me when I motivated y'all?
Still with my day
slap a bitch nigga in the mouth
Need to put some deuce in it
We worldwide independent, evicting all tenants
When we drop shit y'all, panicking
Cause you
slap a bitch nigga in the mouth
Need to put some deuce in it
We worldwide independent, evicting all tenants
When we drop shit y'all, panicking
Cause you
and pray
To the god of funk
Godfather of soul
I'm talking about James Brown y'all.
James Brown is cool.
James Brown is hip
But without these boys
He wouldn't
at the end of the day, I thank my fans
Because, if it wasn't for y'all, I wouldn't be here
So this is for
and walked back to the house to eat
And Mama hollered out the back door "y'all remember to wipe your feet"
And then she said "I got some news this mornin'
Hand
Sam Semilia, what the dilly y'all, ja ich kiff immer noch
Seitdem Mama das erste Mal Weed aus meinem Zimmer roch
Meine Lunge sieht vom ganzen
here, I need to hear y'all!
Never had someone to show me a love, love like this before
Go Fatman Scoop, Crooklyn Clan!
Fatman Scoop, Crooklyn Clan!
hear y'all!
I'm not the one you're gonna take home to your daddy
I'm not the one to sit around with making plans (I'm not your man)
I'm not the one
and
C'mon y'all, lets get woohoo!
Lets get woohoo! (in here)
Lets get woohoo!
Lets get woohoo! (in here)
Lets get woohoo!
Lets get woohoo! (in here)
to the arch equals I'm real
I'm Hollywood, plus true to the heart equals a mil'
I'm killin' y'all, matter fact I'm killin' myself
In a category with T-Boz,
Keep the faith it will be alright, right
Come on y'all, trouble
Can I get a witness, hey
Can I get a witness in the building, no
If you can
magazines
Change the whole atmosphere of the club, them rattle thangs
I'm like y'all, pump sweatin out my triple beams
Shirt's off, one on one up in
just a hatchet execution.....
A Psychopathic execution
Throw it up y'all, lemme see yo' set shinin'
Rhymin'
For this paper, ain't nothin', get back
(Clap your hands y'all, it's alright)
If tomorrow is judgment day (Sing Mommy)
And I'm standing on the front line
And the Lord asks me what I
it with me! (Every chance I'm doing damage)
Come on y'all! (Damage) you know the damage (damage)
This music's got abusive roots, fists hit my face
give a damn what religion or race
We don't hate
Grab you a plate, an' get a taste
We're servin' it up, y'all, hot apple pie
Hey, hey we gotta say
Lord
I love you, Lord
I love you, Lord
I love you, Lord
I love you, Lord
I love you, Lord
I love you, Lord
I love you (Come on y'all)
I love
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