ive got bills to pay but all i really want to do is sit back and drink a few and listen to my favorite songs OK but this problem seems to neve go away
Your number one original hot boy...ya heard and I got Collipark Music...They got me bouncin' wit dis one here....... You could bounce wit it....you could buck
our triggers go Twenty niggas drop to the sound of that auto gun I seen that O.G. gettin' up as he began to run I grab my nine; it's time them niggas
if I got my peeps to flip in And vote and go ahead and smoke 'em, open 'em up And your luck get fucked-up, ready me buck buck buck I'm still runnin' from
hole in his soul If he get away running out my backdoor with me sawed-off swinging Get ready to duck now to the guts buck pap pap pow [(2x) singing]
Dynasty! Who do you believe? Jigga Man, mo' better, mo' cheddar Foes knock the man off your Polo sweater Roll with the R-O-C, A-Fella Remember me?
Breeze, steppin to these Yard ? slitters Buck fifty wit the razor blade, buck down when the pistol's sprayed When I put, the guns away niggas done advance
and caine, let nothin' come between us You mistook me for a rapper, huh Well that makes me an actor, 'cause I would rather clap a gun And buck on them
everyday thang, it's an everyday thang It's an everyday thang, thang It's an everyday thang, it's an everday thang It's an everyday buck, buck, buck,
a bigger hole in his soul If he get away running out my back door with me sawed-off swinging Get ready to duck now to the guts buck pap, pap, pow I claim
and what if I got my peeps to flip in And vote and go ahead and smoke 'em, open 'em up And your luck get fucked up, ready me buck buck buck I'm still
these high-speedaz, police they be the Rosco Bico train, swervin in an outta lanes, runnin from O-H-A, what they throw away, eh, though, eh, way
Eight or nine on the (Boy) holla at your boy Killa...holla....listen, it's the D-I-P (Boy) Plus the R-O-C (Boy) you'll be D-O-A (Boy) Your moms will
heard? It's a Dynasty! Who do you believe? Jigga Man, mo' better, mo' cheddar Foes knock the man off your Polo sweater Roll with the R O C-A-Fella Remember
graves, funerals made 'cause I was sprayed I was laid in a shelf, with a grenade Met a wrecked up tech with numbers on his chest that say Five two o nine
