Oh shit it's not even wack." "I ain't gonna front, it's kinda hot." [Dame:] "it's actually kinda hot." Like they still weren't looking at me like a rapper
that booty, Shake that booty Its not a bake sell, its a cake sell God Damn It Pimp of the Nation, I could be it As a matter of a fact, I for see it But
, let it pour from the sky Look close; see the Empire formin' in my eyes It's like a thousand stars shinin' for a moment in time Had to fight thru all
if it ain't been in the pawn shop, then it can't play the blues If it ain't been in a pawn shop, then it can't play the blues If it ain't been in a pawn
get it flip hate it when you don't misses it's hypnosis in strippin pole position grinning gold so most of the pros I know won't wanna miss it Don't
don't see your eyes get my point ma (ma) However you do it, I'm doing you back Yo, don't misconstrue it, 'cause I'm screwing it back Yo, rappers better
: [isam bachiri] i don't know how, don't know where to start i got the call, i know it's time to part before i leave i took my little one to sleep and
't shine Killers don't talk, little kids don't mind Men don't work, don't take care of babies You bought my album but bootleggers don't pay me City runnin
on unless Allah calls a T.O. And if U/you, like what we create Then pay attention to the flow, don't de-V-ate See we ain't tryin to go pop, like a bubble
up the five four (HO!) The streets of St. Louis call it survival (HEY!) [Kyjuan] Your game ain't tight, no you ain't pimping kin (HO!) You see the Cutlass
'ed, by Chicago But everybody know at a Chi-Town show they like to keep it, G-H-E-T-T-O This time I let it go, but next time I'll have to blast ya Cause
saw me "Goodnight it's over with" that's all she wrote Streets like cold Chicago Ain't nothing knew I've seen it all before But still I ball like no tomorrow "Goodnight it
call me what you want, wanna hate, have a nice time While I get stupid paper, hey my dough ain't in its right mind (mind, mind) [Chorus: T.I.] Now I don't
Down to Arizona, yeah, yeah, that's where I met you I hit the road, Chicago, It's time to meet the pack I went down that other road, I ain't coming back
I gave it to my bitch My first home invasion, pocket gain and 40 bricks Son of a bitch, than I made a great escape Ain't it funny momma, only son be
an mc with bad habbits i am i see a mic and i grab it scarry ain't it? comming raw with no corrections savin' all the prefections for what i do with
wit me ain't no time to Sleep, especially at wet willies on Miami Beach, but I drive you off and pay you no attention if I make it to Atlantas Brina Brothers
they don't be bustin the same [twista] I'm clutchin my thang; Stuffin in it, strokin it down, beat the stuff up Uh-uh shorty, don't run from it She give