| Oh yea, rose and parades, my battle, my scar G rosa
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| Ice feel, how that feel?
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| You said it was about alien impulses all over yo poster
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| We postal phone ya, tell the show close the show
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| It’s over it’s like an old soldier with no model for tomorrow
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| I be thinking bout upholding my bottle
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| Plottin on my Abe Lincoln, loadin hollows with my hands on the bottle
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| Throw a pistol like I’m middle eastern
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| Aye ink pins need revival, yo I’m not religious
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| The palm is which I put a song up in and gave me when he thought I pull em
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| different
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| Mama’s crib is safe, papa’s crib safe
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| All my brothers and sisters know the color of my nickel plate
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| Still the haters wanna aks me how I deal with hate
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| Told em you should never look a pistol in the face
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| You just go the extra mile just to make sure that you’re livin it straight
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| You tell Barack I need a crib and estates
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| And cake niggas celebrate with you like an O chase
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| She stay hit yo crib just to get yo face up out my face
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| Fake nigga, how you picture tomorrow?
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| With the wrong frame of mind
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| How you picture love if you are blind?
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| And the crowd trippin
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| You see I never called you my bitch or even my boo
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| There’s so much in the name, it’s so much more in you
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| My… make you my…
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| Shit!
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| It’s crap day to day but I’m good enough on a bad day
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| Runnin round my town without a sad face
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| Evidence make dough, moneys fat bills
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| Come realities back
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| No strikes back, no
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| Strike that
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| I snap til I’m done with my picks til it’s sick
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| A pic’s on em perfect as the person is fit
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| I lock a shot then I shoot to gift
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| I’m focusin, in dark rooms I develop the prince
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| So place your bets on he with 10th game fav
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| Flow is peace, the beam is stack, the light on the street is his
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| I’m the most west side of any west sider rider
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| Ridin out by the beach until the day is complete
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| I won’t stop, no can over the prop flow
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| I was snot nose kid, I had the potholes
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| In my lawn, I was bomic from dust
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| Then I grew the fuck up like I still dodge gestapos
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| You see I never called you my bitch or even my boo
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| There’s so much in the name, it’s so much more in you
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| My… make you my…
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| Shit!
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| Glass of champagne on a rosy carpet
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| The flow is sparked there like light to darkness illuminating authors
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| Catch the eye, this the point no one’s up
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| 40 days and 40 nights, a roasted pork
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| Stars shinin the brightest,
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| Rhythm unite us, bring us closer to the roads chose
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| Wise as my nigga pimp, bow to the signs of blim
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| Readin the world yours, auderves etcetera
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| Treat her like a lady til yo cheddar up
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| Credible measures of competitive
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| It’s laughable, I never was one
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| To see your efforts standing next to us
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| Had a few occasions on my exodus,
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| When rappers start the record
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| Was the type to be stunted by nay sayers and hecklers
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| Heck of a rappers, both the clowns inspect the deck I touch
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| Crimes with the internet, probly there’s an introspect
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| Crown me king to the death, karma bring bullet deaths
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| Then he got with me with the Henny breath
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| You see I never called you my bitch or even my boo
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| There’s so much in the name, it’s so much more in you
|
| My… make you my…
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| Shit! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song My Hoe , by - Statik Selektah. Song from the album Extended Play, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп