Momma would kill me, momma would kill me, yeah.
Momma would kill me, momma would kill me, yeah!
Columbine GANG shit!
My roommate probably pissed at me by now. It's all love.
Mama would kill me! I got 'em. I'm guilty! I forgot how to shine though! I ain't forget how to rhyme, bottom line. Bottoming out a lot of guys. They gotta climb a whole ladder of success... dynamite. Kinda like why I like to write, but I don't like to write. Keep it explosive. My secret, let's go in and know it. I'm the illest. I get dead every so often. Dead ass, get my head every so often. Get head? nah. I get dead head nods. They noddin the beats that ain't even dropped the craziest hotness. So make me a baby and make me stop it if you control time and life. Like an old school radio commercial... with the old jams? Go ahead, I make focus joints the slow jam... to.
What the hell can I be?
What the hell can I know?
Where the hell can I be?
They say go, go, but what the hell do I know?
They all say don't stop.
Momma would kill me, like I got a white woman pregnant. Let's look again. How you forget to shine? You be giving rhymes, making them beats that bitches and niggas grind to, So how you forget to shine? I'm like, "ma, I been in my mind. It been getting on my nerves while I been getting on my grind. They don't understand I take time to take time to make rhymes that's great. If they don't like it, then hey, face it. They don't like greatness nowadays." Your top five MCs ain't facing no kind of day, but they're facing vacation time. They work away at my nerves. Get them paid, they get away. I get away killing them anyway. Every day Gotta be a goat at some point in time. Some point at rhyming, see that's why these kids annoying.
What the hell can I be?
What the hell can I know?
Where the hell can I be?
They say go, go, but what the hell do I know?
They all say don't stop.
Momma would kill me. I'm anti-Kanye. "How the fuck you got in the building?" Still the most opulent children rock with me, because they know it's just honest and feelings. Honesty spilling out of my limbs. What can I do to be more appealing? Gotta appealing to them. I call them gods. They all on the top of my noggin. All of them should stop. Why? Because you can't be my main thought. My main thought is music and my girl, the main course. Licking and eating. Of course she likes it. I don't know if she likes me, but the force is spiking it. One of these days and evenings, I'll make it safe to believe in me. Until then, look, there's somebody coming. Like we having sex. I'm only in stomach. You hear knocking.
What the hell can I be?
What the hell can I know?
Where the hell can I be?
They say go, go, but what the hell do I know?
They all say don't stop.
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