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