I am not a human being Uhh, pussy for lunch Pop all the balloons and spit in the punch Yeah, kush and the blunts I ride through your block see a foot in the trunk I don't know why they keep playin They better replay 'em I'm giving them the blues Bobby "Blue" Bland Together we stand and fall on y'all Ballin' with my bloods, call it b-ball These days ain't shit Young Money is I got mars bars, three musketeers Come through coupe same colour as veneers And you know I'm riding with the toast, cheers! Now I'm back on my grizz And y'all's a bunch a squares like a motherfucking grid Shit, fuck with me and get hit I finger fuck the nina make the bitch have kids Just do it my nigga I just did Name a motherfucker deeper than me bitch dead Ya dig, this here is big biz and I scream fuck it Whoever it is
I am the Rhyming Oasis I got a cup of ya time I wont waste it I got my foot on the line I’m not racin’ I thank God that I am not basic I am not basic I am not a human being
Ughh, rockstar, baby Now come to my suite and get lockjaw baby Rich nigga lookin at the cops all crazy That's the mob shit nigga Martin Scorsese Heater close range, cuz people are strange But I bet that AK 47 keep you ordaned You can't see weezy nor wayne Im in the far lane, im running this shit – hundred yard gain Uhhh, swag on infinity Im killing em, see the white flag from the enemy Shoot you in the head and leave your dash full of memories Father forgive me for my brash delivery I would try you, I wouldn't lie you I must be sticky cuz them bitches got their eyes glued Young money baby we the shit like fly food Y'all can't see us – like the bride shoes. I stand tall like a muthafuckin 9’2 I scream motherfuck you and whoever design you And if you think you hot then obviously you are lied to And we dont die, we multiply and then we come divide you.
I am the Rhyming Oasis I got a cup of ya time I wont waste it I got my foot on the line I’m not racin’ I thank god that I am not basic I am not basic I am not basic I am not basic I am not a human being
Reporting from another world Magazine full of bullets you can be my cover girl Ness go the weed roll it thicker than a southern girl Strong arm rap like a nigga did a hundred curls Rock star biatch, check out how we rock And if this aint hip hop it must be knee hop Im higher than a tree top She lick my lollipop I still get my candy from your girlfriends sweet shop Spitting that he rock im smooth not Pete Rock And my money on etcetera – 3 dots Still get a stomach ache every time I see cops You better run mothafucka, cuz we not You better run till your feet stop You aint even on a fucking alphabet in my tea pot Colder than a ski shop Holding on to the top, and even if I let go I still wont G-rock
I am the Rhyming Oasis I got a cup of ya time I wont waste it I got my foot on the line I’m not racin’ I thank God that I am not basic I am not a human beingTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
