Testi musica canzoni

[chorus] 2x
People like myself, only hang with self cause that's the way to go
I can't go outside without findin some new kinfolks
People on my left, people on my right, all in my earhole
Make me be like whoa and find me somewhere else to go

It's Mag from your TV screen, buzzin off the Jim Beam
But the Mag y'all think y'all know ain't what I seem
I'm a low-down freak from Seapeak(?)
See them high school mates, I see 'em and don't speak
All y'all wanna talk like we used to hang
Cause I'm doin my thang, now you wanna bask in my fame
That's why I stay out the club, be in the crib
Smokin a dub, countin my cash, over the phone
And I'm sellin cell phones, all with chips
My nine to bloods, my glock to crips, who want war?
You and your boys can bring the noise
But I'ma bring hand grenades, now you're laid!
Pull out my dick, piss on your bitch-ass
Sit on your face, now you gotta kiss ass
Who fiend for fame life belong to your fans
and haters and thugs that wanna end your lifespan

[chorus] 2x
People like myself, only hang with self cause that's the way to go
I can't go outside without findin some new kinfolks
People on my left, people on my right, all in my earhole
Make me be like whoa and find me somewhere else to go

Uhh, uhh, uhh - since I got bigger (bigger)
I'm over here and y'all recite Tim's my nigga (nigga)
Like I just figure (figure)
And my tracks didn't help niggaz
So for rememdy I pound niggaz
Like I keep 'em in DJ's for that new Jigga
Like them forty-two Girbauds
I pocket every demo, like Timbaland - he's that next nigga
Confirmed by people that she can blow
Convinced Booker T she's the next to go-ac