[Verse 1: CB Radio]
My wish is my command I get anything I ask for
Shitting on these beats what you think I got an ass for
I be going crazy like I'm cruising on a crash course
Don't know where I'm going but I hope I got my passport
Living in the future give a fuck a about yesterday
Last time you say hell no, but I bet that you say yes today
Ain't thinking bout the past I'm just trynna write these raps
I'm just trynna make it blast out the speakers as we pass
Cuz we cruising in the fast lane, never slowing down
Unless we smoking that green stuff, but that we pass around
Cuz we dealing with the strugglin' the good shit must be smuggled in
I'm just trynna fuck you girl I'm sick and tired of cuddlin'
My eyes though the so low, three years now I'm solo
First week on the market I kept tipping back the solos
I be drinking anything to me its all the same
Its my coping mechanism trynna deal with this pain, bitch
[Verse 2: Don Juan]
Some say my rhymes are narcissistic
But you should get with don and you'll be sorry that you missed it
Laying down rhymes its a premium verse
That's worth than missing fucking pancakes with the Bisquick
It ain't the same game, played out its different
I just come authenticated no forgeries or misprints
Don't mess with my proximity, now you should keep your distance
Cuz you may think I'm calm but I'll go hard in an instant
I'll run it back cuz I'm under attack and im catching flack
From the referee who's checking me back
And connect to a sack and we blaze it up and repping the hat
Yea the Philly fitted is on my dome just respect where its at, ugh
With a little bit of gold and a pager I got hand jobs when I was a teenager
Living the dream these are the glorious years
And I feel your rhymes sound like the DJ fucking with the phaser
[Verse 3: J Money Mountain Man]
Ay yo the reason that its treason common cold like the season
And I think you might be pissed cuz your bitch finds me pleasin'
But pass that fucking shit I saw you creepin'
I'm a punch you in the face, make you jump call it leapin'
Yo you get back on the mic you see I cut you down ahead of me
Pussy mothafucka used to be my homie now hes dead to me
Calling money dough so you know its just like bread to me
So fall down on your knees like that bitch thats giving head to me
You got beef, watch me eat steak
Always win a fucking battle when I know its high stakes
Crazy fucking dreams start rapping when I wake
Roll up to a party bitches wet like I'm drake, ugh
My wish is my command I get anything I ask for
Shitting on these beats what you think I got an ass for
I be going crazy like I'm cruising on a crash course
Don't know where I'm going but I hope I got my passport
Living in the future give a fuck a about yesterday
Last time you say hell no, but I bet that you say yes today
Ain't thinking bout the past I'm just trynna write these raps
I'm just trynna make it blast out the speakers as we pass
Cuz we cruising in the fast lane, never slowing down
Unless we smoking that green stuff, but that we pass around
Cuz we dealing with the strugglin' the good shit must be smuggled in
I'm just trynna fuck you girl I'm sick and tired of cuddlin'
My eyes though the so low, three years now I'm solo
First week on the market I kept tipping back the solos
I be drinking anything to me its all the same
Its my coping mechanism trynna deal with this pain, bitch
[Verse 2: Don Juan]
Some say my rhymes are narcissistic
But you should get with don and you'll be sorry that you missed it
Laying down rhymes its a premium verse
That's worth than missing fucking pancakes with the Bisquick
It ain't the same game, played out its different
I just come authenticated no forgeries or misprints
Don't mess with my proximity, now you should keep your distance
Cuz you may think I'm calm but I'll go hard in an instant
I'll run it back cuz I'm under attack and im catching flack
From the referee who's checking me back
And connect to a sack and we blaze it up and repping the hat
Yea the Philly fitted is on my dome just respect where its at, ugh
With a little bit of gold and a pager I got hand jobs when I was a teenager
Living the dream these are the glorious years
And I feel your rhymes sound like the DJ fucking with the phaser
[Verse 3: J Money Mountain Man]
Ay yo the reason that its treason common cold like the season
And I think you might be pissed cuz your bitch finds me pleasin'
But pass that fucking shit I saw you creepin'
I'm a punch you in the face, make you jump call it leapin'
Yo you get back on the mic you see I cut you down ahead of me
Pussy mothafucka used to be my homie now hes dead to me
Calling money dough so you know its just like bread to me
So fall down on your knees like that bitch thats giving head to me
You got beef, watch me eat steak
Always win a fucking battle when I know its high stakes
Crazy fucking dreams start rapping when I wake
Roll up to a party bitches wet like I'm drake, ugh
( CB Radio )
www.ChordsAZ.com