Junky Mile

Puff puff pass dady style For twenty on a junky mile Make pussy lipsticks Make money The game is my look how I ride Still like a maniac of my classics I give them another kind Turn up the banger turn up the fender I gonna kick and drop some fancy waves And in my mouth I let poetry shooting I get ocean flows and endless inspiration I go spook out what I got on my mind The fingers written golden state I'm on the gate make the movie one I got my one I got the crown Independent with my business Sitting bull over the bison's Martin Luther he got I dream I got my Listen the sound from the TEC-9 I got Brownie's in the pocket While motherfuckers ask me how i socket One penury and end of the day they Shooting like bullet goof's Wellington in my booth look me on the roof's Shut the f*ck up that's a hole new different game The prophecy pointed up and you were on the lanes Let them sneak in their seeking I'm cocking every penny candy for air drops When they come over they meaning and freaking Look how that pop out the pops When I pull up like a white cop I need the world the world needs me Say it again chain breaker I need the world the world needs me Game changer Same player I feed your deepest desire hot and fire You make a pale face like Mac gayer Ringing Bells Gang shit and a crew Trash Can I gonna born something new Jalousie come over they wish my color when they rapping Switzerland finest chocolate I'm that thing Black Music come from the boombox estate When this come outside give them White Rabbits chuck berry cake Money in My Money Money in my Mind Colonial rule everybody blind I put hip-hop there it was spinning the turntable Burn down the one Billion label F*ck that Bullshit heavy metal Delicacy i'n my legacy Lyrical zipper A was bouncing on it since my mother's belly Call me rocky I fight the ring with gladness Gladiator like a Zulu I came from the stars Feed the poor with some bars Put spitfire in the car On the road to sixty-six Seventy Five flowers on a grab I'm on my lab that's feels like a new SAB Nineties chopsticks and machine fun When I began to clean call me mister proper I make beef steaks like a Hells Angels rocker