Print

He knows my name but, my name is not my name And you? To them you're only the Greek And of course I'm not even Greek Yeah, Baklava, yeah Hologram, yeah That's comin' up Yo it's Mister 40/40 (Uh) Dressed like I'm Treach from Naughty A young brother that'll stretch your shorty (Damn) David Caruso couldn't connect the story (What's up?), solve the puzzle His favorite murder weapon was a shovel It's the jefe (Uh), Spanish women all over my body like I'm Machete homes All I do is write these essay poеms Let's get dusted at thе Mets game homes (Uh) Like sixteen handles, catch me swervin' in the [?] lane home (Woo) I don't even got my left leg on (Damn) Tryna dance tonight (Damn) You said some language, that I seen rappers [?] Me and my brother go together just like lamb and rice (Fuck me) I eat African shrooms, while rappin' on tombs Back in June when I clapped at your goon (Ah) My car color blue off, fool it's new and it's too off Letras de canciones'Fore the limo driver moved off, [?] new golf shoes Workin' on my murdy pot, your heard me slut Hurry up, curry pot, uh I need a bitch to go down on me (Down) I mean really go to town on me (Town) I mean really do a number on me (Suck that dick, bitch) Supplyin' an elite, a few fiends died at my feet (Woo) Got dealt a bad hand, off a half gram (Ow) Feeds the fam, and gave you a half xan And throw you at the Grand Canyon (You fuckin' dead, haha) Yeah, uh Uh Meyhem doin' good, that's a rumor that I heard There was time he was eatin' blue fin tuna They wanna test me like I'm Bradley Beal None of your motherfuckas real, my nigga pass the steel Mass Appeal, mass production Mass destruction, crime, corruption Wine consumption On the private island wildin' Put some through shade 'cause they jealous of my medallion Picture [?], late nights like Jimmy Fallon What we seal, covered with [?], bitches we stylin' My life story is an all couture outfit We gettin' money kid, you niggas ain't 'bout shit From Letras Mania