(Instrumental)
got a lotta gall to be so useless and all Muttering small talk at the wall while I'm in the hall How can I explain? Oh, it's so hard to get on And these
door waitin in line Still tryna get inside the club to see D12 perform The fire marshalls no, the venue's too small People are wall to wall three thousand
til the next time we meet forever! [Chorus] [Verse Two] Music business hate me cause the industry ain't make me Hustlers and boosters embrace me and the music
Sosa, Selita Ebanks If you work with my people, speak that Jourdan Dunn language Make a phone call, out to Joan Smalls I wonder how it feel to lower (Lara) Stone?s walls
kids the instill fear But we still here not afraid cracks is made stacks get made A "g" will get you gats sprayed At my man's funeral it's like nobody care The police get
my niggas get it, get it? I need more drinks and less lights And that American Apparel girl in just tights She told the director she tryna get in a school
til all my niggas get it I need more drinks and more lights Hot American Apparal girl in just tights She told the director she tryna get in a school Told
Am I still that special man You're killing me small small VERSE 2 Tell me why you just dey push me to the wall Making me to fall Killing me small small
: [Music by P. Wagner, S.Fischer, Lyrics by P.Wagner] See these people like me, living in this dirty place Feel this depression in these streets that
Arlenis Sosa, Selita Ebanks If you work with my people, speak that Jourdan Dunn language Make a phone call, out to Joan Smalls I wonder how it feel to lower Stone's walls
got a lotta gall To be so useless and all Muttering small talk at the wall While I'm in the hall Oh, how can I explain? It's so hard to get on And these
satisfied til all my n-ggas get it I need more drinks and more lights hot American Apparal girl in just tights she told the director she tryna get in
door waitin' in line Still tryna get inside the club to see D12 perform The fire marshalls know, the venue's too small People are wall to wall, three
ordinary player Because you'll leave in a wheelchair, dear, after I lay ya Get a grip on your headboard and hold on to it Or get sent right through
love under the moon in Jamaica Get you so hot you call the name of the creata The morning we hop back into action again Up on a wall love how the sun