Žodžiai dainai: Michael Jackson. Michael. The Pain.
Damn...
I don't do this for fun man
It's my job, dawg
All you see is the videos and the rings and the watch
And the bracelet, and chains
And you know, grills and more chains
Another chain on top of that
And another ring on another finger, and another grill
And then I switch grills and then I change chains
And that's all you see, but you know?
'Ey
I wake up early in the morning
Hit the snooze button for hours
Get up, hop into a two hundred thousand dollar shower
Brush my teeth when I'm out it
Remote start the Audi
Kiss my boy, kiss my girl, kiss my wife, and then I'm outtie
Damn
Grind time from a struggle to a hussle
"Aw man"s to "God damn"s
From a clam to a mussel
I ain't say you had it better
But damn, did I tussle
I ain't have much
But if you tried to take it, I'll bust ya
It feels like I done died
'Cause every time I drive my past life flash
Right in front of my eyes
'Cause I'm not one of them guys
That don't remember shit,
Can't even go home and drive alone in this whip
'Cause everybody want him gone
But you got me fucked up
If a nigga gon' be on YouTube saying'
I ain't from my bowin' homes [?]
So I'm gonna keep goin' strong
And let you niggas go out of season
As long as my kids is breathin'
I'm doing this for a lot of reason
I do it for my kids and they kids' kids
And when I'm dead they come to my grave
To tell me what they kids did, yeah
I'mma tell 'em my style and how long I has hated on about it
And how it took twenty minutes to make a song about it
Even though I was young I was actin' grown about it
Took some years, but eventually they left me 'lone about it
Old folks cheering' me on 'cause they know I got it
They see niggas get in the game and fold like origami
But the only foldin' I'm doin' is when I'm at shows poppin'
Got 'em fainting' like Michael Jackson, straight hos droppin'
Then I go home, safely homie, there's no robbin'
Gated community
You gotta know the code, partna
Walk up to the crib
Lamborghini look so proper
And six old-schools sittin' on 24" choppas
White folks in my neighborhood think I'm the Dalai Lama
'Specially when I come outside like roo sticky dima [?]
But everything good gotta turn bad
It's like the weekly drama,
You know, lil' small shit,
Like girls saying' they my baby mama
But this music has made me calmer
I now understand karma
These niggas is mad,
They wanna assassinate me
Like Barack Obama
But I graduated, School of Hard Knocks, summa cum laude
On the side of the stage
Like I am really 'bout to fuck this crowd up
That makes me prouder, makes me a man
If you ain't doin' what I'm' doin'
You automatically a fan
Damn, get on your knees please
And praise God that he sent you somebody
That can just tell you niggas these things
Radio Killa, R&B King, T.P.
The Music Jesus
A.K.A. the Lord of the Three Rings
I don't do this for fun man
It's my job, dawg
All you see is the videos and the rings and the watch
And the bracelet, and chains
And you know, grills and more chains
Another chain on top of that
And another ring on another finger, and another grill
And then I switch grills and then I change chains
And that's all you see, but you know?
'Ey
I wake up early in the morning
Hit the snooze button for hours
Get up, hop into a two hundred thousand dollar shower
Brush my teeth when I'm out it
Remote start the Audi
Kiss my boy, kiss my girl, kiss my wife, and then I'm outtie
Damn
Grind time from a struggle to a hussle
"Aw man"s to "God damn"s
From a clam to a mussel
I ain't say you had it better
But damn, did I tussle
I ain't have much
But if you tried to take it, I'll bust ya
It feels like I done died
'Cause every time I drive my past life flash
Right in front of my eyes
'Cause I'm not one of them guys
That don't remember shit,
Can't even go home and drive alone in this whip
'Cause everybody want him gone
But you got me fucked up
If a nigga gon' be on YouTube saying'
I ain't from my bowin' homes [?]
So I'm gonna keep goin' strong
And let you niggas go out of season
As long as my kids is breathin'
I'm doing this for a lot of reason
I do it for my kids and they kids' kids
And when I'm dead they come to my grave
To tell me what they kids did, yeah
I'mma tell 'em my style and how long I has hated on about it
And how it took twenty minutes to make a song about it
Even though I was young I was actin' grown about it
Took some years, but eventually they left me 'lone about it
Old folks cheering' me on 'cause they know I got it
They see niggas get in the game and fold like origami
But the only foldin' I'm doin' is when I'm at shows poppin'
Got 'em fainting' like Michael Jackson, straight hos droppin'
Then I go home, safely homie, there's no robbin'
Gated community
You gotta know the code, partna
Walk up to the crib
Lamborghini look so proper
And six old-schools sittin' on 24" choppas
White folks in my neighborhood think I'm the Dalai Lama
'Specially when I come outside like roo sticky dima [?]
But everything good gotta turn bad
It's like the weekly drama,
You know, lil' small shit,
Like girls saying' they my baby mama
But this music has made me calmer
I now understand karma
These niggas is mad,
They wanna assassinate me
Like Barack Obama
But I graduated, School of Hard Knocks, summa cum laude
On the side of the stage
Like I am really 'bout to fuck this crowd up
That makes me prouder, makes me a man
If you ain't doin' what I'm' doin'
You automatically a fan
Damn, get on your knees please
And praise God that he sent you somebody
That can just tell you niggas these things
Radio Killa, R&B King, T.P.
The Music Jesus
A.K.A. the Lord of the Three Rings
Michael
Jackson Michael
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