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im still standin.. |
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this for the rap gods.. |
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(andre) |
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i tried to earn wings but, i think i grew horns |
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and maybe thats why mc's rock me like porn |
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flowin like the water in the mississippi river |
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i suppose it grows in the hennessey sipper, thank me |
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to do a show, and we tryin to do a palace, like a midnight jet, |
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my soul roams off to dallas, |
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its somethin like cream when we hustle on the scene |
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other mc's and freaks wanna join the team |
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dealers would fly, ride the engines of pimps |
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the colors were candy coated, incredible rims |
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and my dreams of what people sayin, dont get a job |
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i realize now it was all the rap gods |
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i slither through the streets like a boa constricter |
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on my car dashboard got the gangsta pictures |
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sportin leather and energy , could that be me? |
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smokin weed listenin to run DMC? |
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my repute wass a rap child, emotions of steel |
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represent with no crew man, your life is sealed |
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add a two's of all kinds, with gun zippers in em' |
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see notes dont last long, we cant wait to spin em' |
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oh cars, and bars, weed, greed, and clothes |
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maintain my women, clown the rest of these hoes |
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man, my festive up braid the truth of a rhyme |
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after restin on jeopardy to my lifetime grind |
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im like an angel thats high smoken' weed up in heaven |
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we're as crooked as reverends, b-ball playground legends |
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triangle, some say sinsanati bang goes, stars fangle |
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hand cold as chris krango, we break hearts |
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and crack rib praps, take trips far |
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shop at the gap, ten by the rap gods |
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shoot the git, so i blessed it with some weed, bacon, eggs and grits |
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i can block the sun, like a solar-eclipse |
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my homie said he had a yaght but i dont mess with ships |
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the freak, said she hated dope dealers, they clock they ends, |
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i said which is why ur payin this rapper then |
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nickatina, im something like simbad the sailor |
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dress in red and black, the true signs of a raider |
