Nature Boy by Jemyle Jones Lyrics
True and living, I ain't never heard of limits
Nigga's listen to your tape and never heard a lyric
I got haters baring witness, atheist's envision
They say if God ever rapped... I'm his spitting image
Never stood in pivots, moving about my business
You dying to be hard, you won't live to see the vengeance
Buy it if it's large, drop it if the fam don't fit in
I want to own a phantom so the plan's to get this chicken
Popeye's I got locked eyes on the spinach
Leave bitches cockeyed they admire where my dick is
The plot thickens
Every angle of these rocks glisten
I hit the booth and now your spots missing
I hit your roof and leave your top missing
The top chef, you get Chop'd up in my kitchen
No kidding, shit my fortress is forbidden
Got the force with me, nigga's forfeiting by that fourth sentence... PURE
Crazy thing is I ain't joking at all
Payed attention to the roach on the wall
Can't avoid the obvious when nigga's hoping you fall
When I drop this hot shit, you'll get your wish after all, FUCKER
Quick on the draw, itching to brawl, give me the ball
I'm Marshawn Lynch with an inch on the fourth
You ain't cut from my cloth, silk dripping with sauce
Arm & Hammer, water mixed with the soft, since "Unrated & Raw"
Eye's closed, still aim at you all
I'm from where nigga's want to shoot more than layup the ball
Rather hustle than to lay with their broads
All day on the bar, you pulling up, but you ain't leaving the floor
Radio ain't even for us no more
Digital Underground, "All Around The World" it's just the same ol' song
Same old flows, same old con's-cepts except by the way that I write
I can't go wrong, ELO... PURE
Nigga's listen to your tape and never heard a lyric
I got haters baring witness, atheist's envision
They say if God ever rapped... I'm his spitting image
Never stood in pivots, moving about my business
You dying to be hard, you won't live to see the vengeance
Buy it if it's large, drop it if the fam don't fit in
I want to own a phantom so the plan's to get this chicken
Popeye's I got locked eyes on the spinach
Leave bitches cockeyed they admire where my dick is
The plot thickens
Every angle of these rocks glisten
I hit the booth and now your spots missing
I hit your roof and leave your top missing
The top chef, you get Chop'd up in my kitchen
No kidding, shit my fortress is forbidden
Got the force with me, nigga's forfeiting by that fourth sentence... PURE
Crazy thing is I ain't joking at all
Payed attention to the roach on the wall
Can't avoid the obvious when nigga's hoping you fall
When I drop this hot shit, you'll get your wish after all, FUCKER
Quick on the draw, itching to brawl, give me the ball
I'm Marshawn Lynch with an inch on the fourth
You ain't cut from my cloth, silk dripping with sauce
Arm & Hammer, water mixed with the soft, since "Unrated & Raw"
Eye's closed, still aim at you all
I'm from where nigga's want to shoot more than layup the ball
Rather hustle than to lay with their broads
All day on the bar, you pulling up, but you ain't leaving the floor
Radio ain't even for us no more
Digital Underground, "All Around The World" it's just the same ol' song
Same old flows, same old con's-cepts except by the way that I write
I can't go wrong, ELO... PURE