Check it out now, I work the pen to make the ink On any surface the pen lands on The camera stands on, what's the The Cooley High, cold chief, post techniques
I drape off landscapes and shapes Illustrate the paper space off the that paint design what have a National Geographic a magic With Taylor made status and plus favored is
not balling We take it back to the of yes y'all-in' We holding what's golden On a I rage and I'm rollin'
We're not balling or calling We it back to the days of yes y'all-in' We holding 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 quest for the No name, use fame, strictly new to the We true to the game and never bring it to shame
We tight like or red fox and ripple We participles and smash the artist in you The saga continues, I won't get into there ain't enough bars to hold the drama that we been through
Yo, we still the same a little fame A little in the household name but ain't too much changed We in the but, yo, not to be vain I refrain from salt grains to season up my
We entertain for a mutual game close range Steady aim, drum at your head to hit the I'm labor ready, Scholar for the dollar for mines pay me by the hour
We're not We take it to the days of yes y'all-in' We onto what's 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 I rage and I'm rollin'
Yo, well, it's the Herman Munster The enhancer, sick of phony mobsters controllin' the dance floor I been in dark places, catch you when you naked Your heart races as we pump you for your spaces
The taut be bringing these hot styles through of you bum a few chairs from shock value Word can plow through acres of cornfields Paragraphs cut warm steel, preform ill
We're not We it back 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 it back to the days of yes y'all-in' We onto what's golden On a stage I rage and I'm