作曲 : Felt Seven in the morning police at my door But I spent last night on someone else's floor Out the back window didn't know where I was I was still kinda buzzed with a head full of drugs [Murs] Lookin' at my Nixon it's about that time To go and save the world from the daily grind Speakin' of which, I gotta hit the OC For a quick sesh through my skate park OG Oh please, this is still mid-city Wanna check my street cred go ahead come get me On the block like mopeds or the threads in your ****ies And I float code red off the head so swiftly Stole the scribbles show Man had the feds go get me Still got head from your thoroughbred No hickies, oh really? Throw a veil on your Philly Took pictures of a crack like that bell out in Philly Had to kick out my tail 'cause she smelled like Billy Smoking blunts left her breath so stale coulda killed me Silly quick-witted when I spit the *****t get it I mean sit kitted, I mean, aw *****t It's amazing I remember all the different *****t I'm into I try to stay focused on getting legal tender Gotta stay on the grind cause if the legends get signed Gotta split that dough between 8 7 6 5 [Slug] 4 and 3 and 2 and 1 And when I'm on the mic, the women come Down with A-N-T, MURS and you're not And I got more rhymes than California got cops [Murs] Nine in the mornin' police at my door Wonder what the **** they want to talk to me for She said she wanted money for some fundraiser *****t I slammed the door in her face and said "**** you *****!" [Slug] Looking at my Nixon it's about that time For me to light another cigarette and settle my mind Foot soldier, been waiting for the took over Probably won't be getting naked, if she looks sober I'm a primate with pimp-like mind state Raising the curb to make contemporaries irate Still obsessed with your breasts and your fishnet Beating on my thin chest screaming out "Mid-West!" My nature is to make you a believer On your stereo receiver or your barely legal beaver Buzzin' overhead spittin' fly game Nowadays cats be getting paid and laid up off of my name Wait a minute, take a number Made a visit to your village with this fresh baked biscuit And stayed consistent Breaking in the heads ain't as difficult When half of them are trippin' over how they missed the boat The key is control but your flow is contrived Keep it in my soul take it with when I die Plug that mic in and let heaven get live Turn a groupie into an angel when she 8 7 6 5 [MURS] 4 and 3 and 2 and 1 And when I'm on the mic all your home girls come Down with A-N-T, Slug and you're not And I got more rhymes than rappers who got shot
作曲 : Felt Seven in the morning police at my door But I spent last night on someone else's floor Out the back window didn't know where I was I was still kinda buzzed with a head full of drugs [Murs] Lookin' at my Nixon it's about that time To go and save the world from the daily grind Speakin' of which, I gotta hit the OC For a quick sesh through my skate park OG Oh please, this is still mid-city Wanna check my street cred go ahead come get me On the block like mopeds or the threads in your ****ies And I float code red off the head so swiftly Stole the scribbles show Man had the feds go get me Still got head from your thoroughbred No hickies, oh really? Throw a veil on your Philly Took pictures of a crack like that bell out in Philly Had to kick out my tail 'cause she smelled like Billy Smoking blunts left her breath so stale coulda killed me Silly quick-witted when I spit the *****t get it I mean sit kitted, I mean, aw *****t It's amazing I remember all the different *****t I'm into I try to stay focused on getting legal tender Gotta stay on the grind cause if the legends get signed Gotta split that dough between 8 7 6 5 [Slug] 4 and 3 and 2 and 1 And when I'm on the mic, the women come Down with A-N-T, MURS and you're not And I got more rhymes than California got cops [Murs] Nine in the mornin' police at my door Wonder what the **** they want to talk to me for She said she wanted money for some fundraiser *****t I slammed the door in her face and said "**** you *****!" [Slug] Looking at my Nixon it's about that time For me to light another cigarette and settle my mind Foot soldier, been waiting for the took over Probably won't be getting naked, if she looks sober I'm a primate with pimp-like mind state Raising the curb to make contemporaries irate Still obsessed with your breasts and your fishnet Beating on my thin chest screaming out "Mid-West!" My nature is to make you a believer On your stereo receiver or your barely legal beaver Buzzin' overhead spittin' fly game Nowadays cats be getting paid and laid up off of my name Wait a minute, take a number Made a visit to your village with this fresh baked biscuit And stayed consistent Breaking in the heads ain't as difficult When half of them are trippin' over how they missed the boat The key is control but your flow is contrived Keep it in my soul take it with when I die Plug that mic in and let heaven get live Turn a groupie into an angel when she 8 7 6 5 [MURS] 4 and 3 and 2 and 1 And when I'm on the mic all your home girls come Down with A-N-T, Slug and you're not And I got more rhymes than rappers who got shot
