DJ Kay Slay - Rolling Stone

Song Rating: 8.35/10

Song lyrics:

(Verse 1: Game)
n***a pull up, hop out the cutla**, tell a n***a f** this
I aint toleratin no f** sh**
Wifey at the halfway house, with a b**h with her a** hanging halfway out
I aint bout no games n***a, thats my name
Gold grill with a blunt hanging halfway out
n***a cant tell me sh** unless he got hits and then he can tell me how them hash weigh out
Crib laid out like a pimp here, your b**h there on a bed laid out
n***a talkin that f** sh**, we just spread out
Boy get yo whole motherf**ing hood Kd out
I was born in the CP, Tommy on my lap
If its cheese in that ho you can find me in the trap
But when its snap, give a f** about a rap
Yuck me and Buck back, 7-11 on the crack
See a Cadillac? Get the f** up outta there
Grand Theft Auto on a b**h a** n***a
Getting 3 up, bring a truck up outta that
Then pop bottles, let me hit that n***a
Roll blunts the size of this mac
Im in love with the kush, aint givin that back, trill n***a
Smoke till my lungs collapse
Pa** out with a 5th of that cognac
Real n***as gon recognize this G sh**
Dont come at me with no peace sh**
That peace sh**, that was ‘89, I get yo a** hit with 89s
Motherf**er fore the cops get down, n***a Js coming off
Drive off with the Ks running off
Fly home, tuck my sons into bed
Kiss my daughter on the head and leave a note by her motherf**ing bed

Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
Papa was a rolling stone, my son
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone

(Verse 2: Young Buck)
Aint sh** changed with me n***a
Been around the world with the same AK
Same clip with mo bodies on it
Then hook yo hood with this beef sh**
Looking around but nobody want it
n***as know whats up with Buck
Get a couple murder cases coming up
Shoot first!
Molly popping, thats young n***as
All they really wanna do now is so guns
Moving on and Im gone
Papa got a brand new home
And Im not looking back, Im just cooking crack
Until I get back where I belong
My b**h leave brains all on my seat

But these n***as blood all on my hands
Been riding up and down these streets
f**ing as many n***as I can
Shotgun shell still in my leg
Got a few racks still on my head
Gotta stay strapped now, they handicapped now
f** n***as whos stealing my bread
Had to buy a graveyard for just trappers
Aint got a funeral home for you rappers
Know I can play the role with you actors
When we gon get enough to come after
Now send it n***a, Im going Kendrick n***a
You can start the sh** but Imma end it n***a
If you getting money better spend it n***a
This real life, no pretending n***a
Back at it again, fresh out the pen
Remember back then? They had to let me in
And yall n***as talking bout cashing out
I need a trash bag to put the cash in


(Verse 3: Papoose)
They told me papa was a rolling stone
Like Mick Jagger keep b**hes round they whips, Charlie hold it holmes
You aint a poet cus you wrote a poem
I am lyrically until these spirits really higher on the totem pole
I get the cheese, cheddar mozzarella
American, moderate, jack, swizz, feta, mars the prevalone
I bring a n***a down limb by limb
Blood sweat tears molecules flesh then show my chromosomes
Jim star, raise it for yo dome
With a hole in yo face shot just like Macaulay Culkin Home Alone
Tote the chrome and spark blast with a dark mask, tryna pop trash, blowing at yo motor home
Im on LeBron, catch you b**hin on my block
Imma knock it out the park
Babe Ruth, go and throw it go
I grab his bones squeeze 3, brought him like DD, you PC no ET in fully home
Guantanamo… all of yall f**ed up
Young Buck, roll em holmes
Have a gla** of murder, have em grab the burner
Im so nice, can see these rappers cry so loaners
My way fowl, dont convert you have a jazz converter
You need bigger hard drives, Imma crash yo server
I was raised with the k**ers in a cla** of burglars
Ive been the truth in the booth go and ask the jugger
This is annihilation, you n***as violating, wont die hating, getting shots like immunization
Im sending vibrations that could shake a wise nation
And if the devil was a liar then you gon die satan
You ever disrespect my brother soldiers
You gon see a bunch of Rolls with tints, throw em in the cellar
Blood on my hands so blood money low
You got blood on yo hands cus you a cutthroat


Date of text publication: 17.01.2021 at 06:37