- Lyrics
- Album list
Black Hippy
-
Numbers On the Boards
Not wearing two chains but I keep it true Real niggas wit me, my real bitches too Out for trump change, yea I gotta eat Patience is a virtue something flawless gon' come to me I'm rollin O.G. blow it out the roof She eyeballin me, mackin hoes like CPUs She know me, might saw me on TV too Thuggin wit the homies tryna make it kickin' ghetto tunes Out the gutter bitch, what your focus is? Small time hustlin, now it's time to do it big I want it all, fancy cars yea the newest shit Came a long way ridin round on my Buick shit Went by any means, who said it best? Kobe Bryant mind state I'm shootin til I'm accurate Can't stop it til I'm a couple million strong Grinding to put my loved ones on in my zone Not your average rapper, step inside my universe Far from you average rappers, nothin is by the book Welcome to Hell's Kitchen, show you just how to cook This city is full of bishops, putting pressure on rooks My vision so panoramic my brain on another planet To reach it you gon' need more than a neurologist Honestly to be honest, far from lyrical Gifted with miracles when I rhyme it's a ritual Spit it it hit you spiritual nigga I'm planning my day to triumph All I got is my word and my sword, choppa and bible I pray, pray a nigga never get in my way Cause that'll be the moment he make his bed and just lay Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com And now you see me shinin' perfect timing I'm a Top Dawg I love this feelin' make a killing when I'm on tour All my life surrounded by negativity, jealousy Through the mist of it all is what they tellin' me
(Muthafuckas can't rhyme no more, bout crimes no more)
When I was in the streets I put them numbers on the board I robbed two niggas, put they chains in the pawn shop Got 500 spent it all on a quarter piece Made about 1500 Them new J's was about 200 The word got back, they know I dun it Spent a thou' on a few new drummas Took it to them cause I knew they was comin' Three yards left, ran through those like first and goal Naw I'm back burnt pistol close like 'who got the dough?' Yea, DMX of the projects Skinny black nigga with a complex fuck your pyrex Robbin everything no patience for the nonsense Professor X with a tec get your mind hit They say I rap with a chip on my shoulder Naw nigga this the wits of a soldier Muthafucka it's Jay Rock
(laughs) You got it big bro!
-
|