in the spot Booty movin weight like she own the block Where the drank?I gots to know, tight jeans tattoo cuz I'm rock n roll Half black half white domino
I'm not bad, I just sound that way All the girls they like their presents, like their presents When boys wrap 'em up in ribbons, ribbons, ribbons Doesn
her eyes "I'm scared," she whispered As she wants to hide Into a back room where She paints on a smile She hears a sound She hears a sound It could
sing With the bang, with the bomb, with the bomb Yeah, a bomb in the club Fresh off of the crash Freshen up tail like an old mouse trap Tell me what it is, how the 88 sound
bass cause I can't Confess my rock and roll ways Cause I'm so possessed with the music The music he plays I can't stop my feet from dancin' to the sound
covers on top of your bed You steer away in a rear view mirror You make my head swim I keep you warm and won't ask you where you've been With your backless black
But there is one voice that has never been heard before, The voice of old Mr. World himself, The way he might sound if he could speak to us in our own
def, a lot of respect Feel Me? Fuck to the rock, Sean John jury I got the same hands of crap platinum and the crap pyramids Write about the black experience
fitted caps Dwell in the habitat where cons and killers at Faced a thousand deaths, cowards'll bow to the feet Of the Almighty, a God to the black child
we all gone (OH THAT'S CRAZY) Fuck it, pump the sound to ten (OH THAT'S CRAZY) Catch BR on the cover of Spin (OH THAT'S CRAZY) [Chorus: Black Rob] Man
[Black Rob] (P. Diddy) Y'all ain't ready (The saga continues) Tootsie rolls (We still here) Yo, PD, Bad Boy, Alumni, BR I had this bad bitch uptown,
Mr. Soul Survivor does that make me a Konvict? 'Be all you can be', now, don't that sound like some dumb shit When you dogged with crude oil as black
said he like the change And he likes the way my hick-hop sounds And the way the crowd screams when I stomp the ground I'm big and black, clickety-clack
behind a Pinto Out the back door like some damn track stars Broke down an alley jumped into a car Suckers didn't even see us They musta been Blind Black
Are being played It's a plot they use To keep down another Here comes another Brainwashed brother Shut up, do you know How dumb you sound? That mentality
's a start They could push their reps quicker, kill a well known nigga And if you say you're going to kill me, should I blast you first? Being black
dump Pumps the sounds that you bump in your trunk So turn it up punk, what'cha 'fraid of? What'cha made of? Pull the pin, set the grenade off, blastin' sounds