Lyrics:
You're simple like bloodin' and
Cripin' in Britain are we that unoriginal
Can't even find our own reasons for killing?
And that's what you're callin
to your mind..
to your body.. to your soul!
[Chorus]
You better, pack up your bags, better get out of town
'Cause when the God come you know he gon'
on these bitches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smoking on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter
Still in a box,
her out, but I just want some sucky suck
My Glock a a minor, Gen 17, can't leave it round R. Kelly
Turn that nigga to a bowling ball, put holes all in
missin'
I brought her by Will.i.am, but she kept callin' him William
Only God can judge me, case closed
I got more hoes than Drake shows
I got this shit
moving
Slump your seatbelt
Nigga mad, that's his pride
Watch how he melt
From the shells, bulletproofs
They are no help
Please stop it, if you a fan
You
got a goon in your kitchen so spill it, (what?)
Toughest nigga in yo squad gon be telling,
Don’t try nothing cuz your moves are predicted ,(yahhh)
Why
when the thugs cry)
Are you ready, ready?
We keepin' the lights on at Ruthless and I ain't fuckin' the boss, lookin' at me sexy.
Take your clothes
I see a girl staring' like Duke had to rizz up
She suckin' my dick, hell nah, I ain't gon' kiss her
She callin' me daddy, I guess I'm the mister
I'm
the hell of it
Just got word
Lil homie; got killed, over cigarettes
Damn
Gunned down, by his own mans
Crazy how, your enemy
Can be, your own friend
I come
come or crack
Somebody cone on a Sunday
That black CZPO1
Extended smoke like a lung
50 shot the new drum
Get your whole body spun
Now how's the sound
muthafucka first degree keep a leash on his dick
Take notes, sit by the poor folks, I tell you 'bout my strokes
But I done been gave that up, ain't healthy
the mix, if you know what I mean
'cause the girl's only sixteen
Your nipples are hard
Your bootie's soft
But cutie I need to drop you off
Grabed my keys then
status,
do not have much so means more to have lavish,
If you think you are slick all the cameras are hidden
your body dismembered , bye bitch and good
you know that nigga not open
We fuckin' off the xans and your bitch legs are so open
I'm fuckin' on your bitch and I'm lovin' her ocean
We movin' like
across the land
Led by a bleached blonde man with a mic in his hand
Act two, song's the only way for me to talk to you
Cos you're the king of hip hop
I'm
Travel all the way down to your leg
Ayo, it's Hell on Earth
Whose necks are gonna be first?
The projects is front line
And the enemy is one-time
I
me
You steppin' with 007
Better make it snappy
No time to do your hair, baby
Brothers are bustin' at me
Beats and bullets pass me
None on target
They
me
You steppin' with 007
Better make it snappy
No time to do your hair, baby
Brothers are bustin' at me
Beats and bullets pass me
None on target
They
with it
How could you ever?
How could you amount to not
Having amounts of dollars?
I would holler at ya, your
Girl would say "Hi!", and
She would pass by
the way I box Em out
party at my place so bring a crowd
Don't forget to that loud
They blow it by the pound
My niggas I keep around
Best believe they
our life, nigga (drop his ass)
I just had a son, I just had a cub (my baby)
What's even better is he by somebody that I love (my baby)
My real
slot
And cold and rains
couldnt stop her
From callin me poppa
Big daady draw dropper
Mr.Heart breaker
She leaves Mary Poppins
And comes home Seka
And protected you
From the pistol that dares to shoot
Body counts are racking up
Check that his papers stacking up
He's known as a big spender
Even flirts with
Discuss these your bodys callin his and hers extended mix by r kelly Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In