Translation: Top of the Fair. In Writing.
I'll keep your picture in my pocket so I can see you when I want to. I'll keep your picture in my pocket so I can see you when I want to. Could you
kid popping the Glock at his moms And his pops then he hops in his drop with his iPod rocking the Slaughterish Documentation and lyrics I write with confidence Write
jungle land The midnight gang's assembled And picked a rendezvous for the night They'll meet 'neath that giant Exxon sign That brings this fair city
We're far from good Not good from far 90 miles per hour down Compton Boulevard With the top down, screaming we don't give a f-ck Drink my 40 ounce of
Stop Or The Narcs Knock I Gotta Give It To You Straight Like A Bar Shot Cuz The Streets Don't Play Fair (Huh) Niggas Mad Cuz You Got More Rides Than The State Fair
' And we put it on records to entertain ya wit' I'm grown with pains way deeper than Mike Seavers Our uniforms is white sneakers and white T-shirts On top
talk soft Let me turn this up an' make you crack your drop top I cannot stop, it's like a curse You'll break your jaw just tryin' to recite my verse I write
to skip Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip You pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X. And if we cool, then I write a hook for a
that you can't write down, Start again from the top, come on people bounce. Verse 4 a?? Suffa Man all these pollies in power are cowards so it's only fair
And I've got studios to write in (?) And I've got news for rejoicing Now a new sun is rising I count my blessings That I'm safe when I'm resting
isnt fair, Ima venereal disease like a menstrual bleed.. Threw the pencil and leak the sheet of the tablet in my mind, Cuz I dont write shit cuz I aint
A Millionaire, I'm a young money Millionaire, tougher than Nigerian hair, My criteria compared to your career just isn't fair, I'm a venereal disease
you up baby, we popping rubber bands Lil? mama I am the man, tell me what you sayin? Everybody gets, gets a fair try You alright with me till you tell a lie From the top
gone I been on this thug shit y'all can't seem to fuck wit' My shit is hot dogs, to top it off, still spittin' mustard No fair, 'cuz I don't care I go
And Ia??ve got studios to write in(?) And Ia??ve got news for rejoicing Now a new sun is rising I count my blessings That Ia??m safe when Ia??m resting
'accent tonique Write me words that sound Words that resound Write me words that give A meaning to my music Write me words that sound Words that reason Write
