| I load the 44
|
| Then paint the Van Gogh
|
| She rang the front door
|
| She came commando
|
| She came and rambled
|
| I came and rolled over
|
| No time for conversations cold shoulders
|
| Outta my mind
|
| She outta red wine
|
| She woozy bitch bourgeois straight from Dubai
|
| She love the hip hop and love my slick talk
|
| Give head then begged the boy to crip walk
|
| I write the James Joyce
|
| Don’t need the Rolls Royce
|
| I need a straight jacket finna go bat shit
|
| Sick of these rapper stealing my swagger
|
| Tryna run with the penmanship practiced
|
| Gangsta gone Gatsby
|
| Fades with no lotion
|
| Get this shit cracking
|
| Crack his jaw open
|
| Crack in my system
|
| Daddy loved smoking
|
| Like he loved smoking niggas no joking
|
| Everybody get a little bit crazy
|
| Seems like you’ve been feeling that lately
|
| Everybody gets a little bit lonely
|
| Keep breathing slowly slowly
|
| Right place at the wrong time
|
| Wrong turn in my own mind
|
| Right place at the wrong time
|
| Got lost in my own mind
|
| It’s okay, hey Vince, it’s me
|
| Things are going pretty great and this ain’t what you need
|
| Don’t need to waste your time on an ignorant fuck
|
| Send me some more money, we’ll laugh it all up
|
| Hey, remember how we used to fight in Pre-K?
|
| Mama whooped that ass for 3 days
|
| Parties at McDonald’s for our birthday
|
| It’s okay, it’s okay, guess I should say
|
| Lemme tell ya 'bout, when a nigga went crazy
|
| At the Marriott, having Kurt Cobain dreams
|
| Lemme tell ya 'bout, when a nigga went loco
|
| Ace hotel shoulda stayed at the Soho
|
| Housekeeping keep knocking on my door though
|
| Don’t she know I’m staring in the mirror with a 44
|
| Tryna get my head straight
|
| She tryna get the bed straight
|
| No room to think
|
| KABOOM on the sink
|
| Uhh me tienes harta
|
| (pinche baboso abre los ojos)
|
| Quien te cres eh? |
| El muy chingon?
|
| (date cuenta de lo que tienes)
|
| Tu no eres nadien
|
| (ya no eres niño)
|
| Todo lo que quieres hacer te sale mal, eres un estupido no sabes nada
|
| (You're a grown ass mutherfuckin' man)
|
| Nadie te toma enserio
|
| (I fuckin' hate you, just leave me the fuck alone)
|
| Sabes que, vete a la chingada me caes gordo
|
| (pinche puto desgraciado)
|
| Pinche vato pendejo
|
| (I fuckin' hate you)
|
| Everybody get a little bit crazy
|
| Seems like you’ve been feeling that lately
|
| Everybody gets a little bit lonely
|
| Keep breathing slowly slowly
|
| Right place at the wrong time
|
| Wrong turn in my own mind
|
| Right place at the wrong time
|
| Got lost in my own mind
|
| It’s okay, hey Vince, it’s me
|
| Things are going pretty great and this ain’t what you need
|
| Don’t need to waste your time on an ignorant fuck
|
| Send me some more money, we’ll laugh it all up
|
| Hey, remember how we used to fight in Pre-K?
|
| Mama whooped that ass for 3 days
|
| Parties at McDonald’s for our birthday
|
| It’s okay, it’s okay, guess I should say
|
| In the black Benz speeding with my black skin gleaming
|
| Out the window
|
| Tints low baby come and see ‘em where the rent low
|
| Been gone I don’t need a shrink I need a hit song tryna show the world a nigga
|
| Tweaking
|
| Been a schizo crip though off of 65th though
|
| Anybody killer I ain’t aiming when the shit blow
|
| Jumping through your window finna hit a lick mode
|
| Thugging since the flip phone don’t be who I flip on
|
| We all waste away, what are you looking for?
|
| We all waste away, what do you got in store?
|
| We all waste away, cause I can’t take much more
|
| We all waste away, rather be lost and poor
|
| What my pastor say? |
| Some shit that I don’t believe
|
| What my master say? |
| Nigga, you won’t be free
|
| Until you pass away, razor on my sleeve
|
| Tryna compensate, this pain, it run so deep
|
| «But you a star,» they say, «You mean so much to me
|
| Mean so much to me» |