World Series

Yeah

Kells

Who the fuck want it with him

We ball

Like Indians at the World Series 8th inning

I'm gone

Rolling with Nicole Kidman

I hit the pussy like a bong

Fuck show business

We in the jungle with the gorillas

We in the streets with the four wheelers

Don't speak I am no witness

You got beef?

Put an end to you talking

Like a long sentence

Period, uh

Mother fucker I'm serious

Who ya favorite rapper?

I'm curious

He ain't living out them words

He ain't used Machine Gun's verse

On the track

Cause his ass got murdered

I'm talking in the third

I'm talking to a stealer

And he ain't from the 'Burgh

You talking to a Cleveland motherfucker in the first

So you better not get on my nerves

Bitch

I need herb though

Keep me moving like a turtle

Keep me seeing this purple

Keep it banging like Kirko

Work something, twerk something

Bitch fuck me now she worth something

Gas tank on E

It ain't worth fronting

Tryna stunt on me

That's the worse coming

Okay, motherfucker gonna need some plumbing

I am the shit and I feel like eating something

Feeding my stomach

Give me a rapper

Make it a hundred

Fuck it give 'em the Hubble Telescope

They couldn't see the youngin'

Fuck it let em get a lil something

Bring em to the block do a lil stuntin

That ain't nothing

Everywhere I go putting on

I ain't bluffing

Everywhere I go putting on

Bitch I run it

Kells

This song got a motherfucker feeling like Pac tho

Picture me roll

Picture me rollin'

Picture me roll

This song got a motherfucker feeling like Pac tho

Picture me roll

Picture me rollin'

Picture me rollin'

Picture me rich

Picture everybody with a picture of me hanging on the wall

Like Prince

Picture your favorite R&B singer

Looking at a picture on her phone

Of my big ol' dick

Picture me living like Biggie

The real Frank White

I'm the king of my city

Picture all this shit

Starting as dream

Starting at a picture of Martin Luther King

Bitch

That's my reaction

Tryna make it happen from rapping

Trying to avoid me a casket

Half of my kinfolk caught up

In traffic from trapping

My whole squad done turned to a fraction

Cause Tony Montana's

Right up the block from us, dog

It's hard not to get caught up in it all

Hard not to ball

Sales for yayo, then jail

Then someone goes talk to the law

Please God

Tell me that ain't true

Tell me name on that paper work ain't you

If you ain't snitching then why is you home

Stupid decision bitch

Better get gone

Three in the morn'

I can't get rest so I turn over

Pick up that thirty eight special

You bust in my door

Then I bust at your neck ho

Twenty five stranded on death row

This song got a motherfucker feeling like Pac tho

Picture me roll

Picture me rollin'

Picture me rollin'

This song got a motherfucker feeling like Pac tho'

Picture me roll

Picture me rollin'

Picture me rollin'