care Floss like a bunch of young black millionaires Makin' ya run, me and my dunn, stackin' my ones Floss a lil', invest up in a mutual fund Blowin' the horn
Plus you lookin' good, that-that-that I can't perform right In a U.S. club, down the lot p-p-pourin' right Jamaica born, I don't mean to toot your horn
fair - half bro I love money I take it from anybody and I'm never sorry when I leave an ex like heart broke See the horns, I've got them saying bravo
as fuck, with the slow funky tempo (what?) Bumpin, straight bumpin, neck thumpin Stick out your tongue motherfuckers I'm comin Hardcore's the way that I swing yo Back in eighty-eight
I produce my own shit And I toot my own horn, a star when I was born My name aint james, my word is bond Yeah Shout out to cannibus had a similar line ninety-eight
Nia Long is in the building Penthouse fashion, ordered out room service It looked bugged 'cause the waiter looked nervous Lift off the lid, seen two shiny thirty-eights
this modern design, My convertible top and the gals don't mind Sportin' with me, ridin' all around town for joy. (Spoken) -- Blow your horn, Rocket, blow your horn! (Horn
't take no more Overboard I'm bout to go Funk and drank and dank you under the table like I did before Seven, nine of ninety-eight Playa Fly gone hit'
comes around telling me I gotta turn the sound down Broadway, down on the corner The Bible screamer, the plasma donor Buses, car horns, ghetto blasters
here Well my pizza delivery guys, they all wear suits And all my musicians they play in the nude The lawyers wear nipple rings they kiss my ass And the French horn
side of the day. And I said, "I don't understand why I'm fumbling after" You're the reason I cannot forget this season Or the letter when you first referred to eight
standing atop a tiny mountain with a long horn in his mouth, he swings to the right in time to collect the ball in his horn, we flash to the number 7
, with the rhythm I up jump the boogie Shame I rely on record labels to push me Since the bush, I been y'all way to escape Through eight tracks wax CDs
town-o, I said town-o John, John, the gray goose is gone and the fox is on the town-o John, he ran to the top of the hill Blew his horn, both loud and
I was lousy at math, failed historian Carlene was the valedictorian I was quarter back in the back of classes She was the whiz kid in horned rim glasses
you pay me some Beats sound fickle, rented Jeep sounds sickenin' To those with no soul, as I roll with my [Incomprehensible] Bugle boy, bugle boy, toot your own horn
is Mick Ryan, I'm lyin still In a lonely spot near where I was killed By a red man defending his native land In the place that they call Little Big Horn
