A Foul, A Hot Guy Does Hip-Hop Flyies Are Knockin Up, Out The Park And After The Game We Gone Meet Up After Dark Vrooom On A Yamaha Chromed Out 11 Hundred
can get it up On my neck on my wrist everything is litted up Drinkin bottles of that Clique 'till I spit it up Only get one life so you gotta live it
a thug I'm in love... with a gangsta, yeah [Jim Jones] Now my wife she won't stop blowin' my phone up Every bitch conversation they keep throwin' the Jones up
(feat. 40 Cal, Fatal Hussein) [Verse 1: Jim Jones] Rumors that were said, shot in cold blood Two up in my head, can't talk phone bugged Somebody want
I'll be the only one that you gonna run to Just getting paper and ducking police Look what the ghetto did to me (uh)(yeah yeah) [Verse 2: Jim Jones]
shit Around my way [Chorus] [Outro: Jim Jones overlaping chorus towards the middle] Yeah, this one goes to my way All my G's, all my soldiers 'Round my way
toe ice cold AC, butter scotch guts hard top Benz with the roof popped up every tooth rocked up, nigga swangin with the glock nine sixty duece cocked up
That's what makes me nigga, and that's just the way it is nigga uhh, Killer, uhh, Prease, uhh, Vacant Lot, Diplomat, uhh Killer, family nigga, yo, uhh, Killer, uhh, yo yo yo... (verse one
Way I Will Never Cheap Talk And I Call My Mommy Sweat Heart, She Call Me Sweet Daddy And She Gladly, Loves The Way That Daddy Batty, Yeah Baby Whezzy
(Feat. Jim Jones) Jones! We Born to die (For Real) So I get high, just like I'm gonna fly (to the moon) I'm in the court with marijuana eyes (Sorry
which one is it? Howard: (Burp) . . . excuse me . . . It's . . . it's . . . it's the one by the airport . . . you know . . . 'cause we gotta . . . we gotta get up
: (Feat. Jim Jones) Jones! We Born to die (For Real) So I get high, just like I'm gonna fly (to the moon) I'm in the court with marijuana eyes (Sorry
this particular tune to all to all to all the hell of ya from wherever [Channel Live] But there's only weak rappers steady making hits, fuck that! [Verse One