Check it out now, I the pen to make the ink transform On any particular surface the pen on The stands on, what's the beef? The Cooley High, chief, high post techniques
I drape off landscapes and shapes Illustrate the paper off the pens that paint Then design what have a Geographic a magic With Taylor made status and favored is automatic
We're not We take it back to the of yes y'all-in' We onto what's golden On a I rage and I'm rollin'
We're not balling or shot We take it back to the days of yes We onto what's golden On a I rage and I'm rollin'
Melancholy mundane, so I tame the hot Big rings, fat chains and quest for the same No name, use fame, new to the thang We true to the game and never bring it to shame
We tight like dreadlocks or red fox and We pass participles and the artist in you The saga continues, this I get into 'Cause there ain't enough bars to hold the drama we been through
Yo, we still the same a little fame A little change in the household but ain't too much changed We in the game but, yo, not to be I refrain from salt grains to season up my
We entertain for a mutual game from close Steady aim, drum at head to hit the brain I'm ready, Rhode Scholar for the dollar Work for mines pay me by the
not balling We take it to the days of yes y'all-in' We onto what's golden On a stage I rage and I'm
We're not balling or calling We it back to the days of yes y'all-in' We holding onto golden On a stage I and I'm rollin'
Yo, well, it's the verbal Herman 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 chart spaces
The taut be bringing these hot styles through Some of you bum a few chairs from shock power can plow through acres of cornfields Paragraphs cut like warm steel, ill
not balling We take it back to the of yes y'all-in' We holding onto what's On a I rage and I'm rollin'
We're not balling or shot We take it to the days of yes y'all-in' We onto what's golden On a I rage and I'm rollin'