Check it out now, I work the pen to the ink transform On any particular surface the pen on The camera stands on, the beef? The Cooley High, cold chief, high post
I drape off poetic and shapes Illustrate the space off the pens that paint Then design what have a National Geographic a With Taylor made and plus favored is automatic
We're not We take it to the days of yes y'all-in' We holding onto golden On a I rage and I'm rollin'
We're not or shot calling We take it back to the of yes y'all-in' We holding onto what's On a I rage and I'm rollin'
Melancholy mundane, so I tame the hot Big rings, fat chains and y'all for the same No name, use fame, strictly new to the We stay true to the and never bring it to shame
We like dreadlocks or red fox and ripple We pass and smash the artist in you The continues, this I won't get into 'Cause there ain't enough bars to hold the that we been through
Yo, we still the same a little fame A little change in the household name but ain't too changed We in the but, yo, not to be vain I refrain salt grains to season up my name
We entertain for a mutual game close range Steady aim, drum at your to hit the brain I'm labor ready, Scholar for the dollar Work for mines pay me by the
We're not We take it back to the days of yes We holding onto golden On a stage I and I'm rollin'
not balling or shot calling We take it back to the days of yes We holding onto what's On a stage I rage and I'm
Yo, well, it's the verbal Herman The word enhancer, sick of phony mobsters controllin' the floor I been in dark places, catch you when you naked Your heart races as we you for your chart spaces
The taut be bringing these hot styles through Some of you bum a few chairs from value Word power can through acres of cornfields Paragraphs cut like warm steel, ill
not balling We take it back to the of yes y'all-in' We onto what's golden On a stage I rage and I'm
We're not or shot calling We it back to the days of yes y'all-in' We holding onto what's On a I rage and I'm rollin'