Brand New Chanel Kicks Songtext
Where we at?
Boldy James (Mr. Jackson), real name James Clay Jones III
Was involved in a two-car accident (227) that happened in the Detroit metropolitan area (What else?)
He was taken to the hospital in critical condition, suffering from broken vertebrae in his neck and other severe injuries (Two-way, deuce, siete)
But after undergoing extensive surgery on his nеck (Yeah), he was taken out of ICU in stablе condition
This drug zone shit is so for real (What else?)
Long live Slick, welcome home Lord Chill
They know that my blow be the real deal, Holyfield (Blocks)
East Warren to Cadillac and I ain't talkin' no Seville
Boldy James (Mr. Jackson), real name James Clay Jones III
Was involved in a two-car accident (227) that happened in the Detroit metropolitan area (What else?)
He was taken to the hospital in critical condition, suffering from broken vertebrae in his neck and other severe injuries (Two-way, deuce, siete)
But after undergoing extensive surgery on his nеck (Yeah), he was taken out of ICU in stablе condition
This drug zone shit is so for real (What else?)
Long live Slick, welcome home Lord Chill
They know that my blow be the real deal, Holyfield (Blocks)
East Warren to Cadillac and I ain't talkin' no Seville
Thuggin' in the bus at Ruff and Finn in the Choke and Kill
Ran'd it up on Schoolcraft down the street from Roller Wheels (Yeah)
Thousand beans a day, hit your town with a bowl of pills
With or without the rap game, I got dope for sale
Nigga disrespect the gang, send them to the Holy Grail
You gotta weigh me off the rig to never own the scale
Ghetto nigga, I love pretty bitches with ponytails (Ayy)
All my killers, standin' on the business, live from Soldier Field
Free all my guys in that federal holding cell
Started out on Gilchrist, now we packin' lunches
Catching buses on them field trips
Satchel full of trail mix (Sack up), stood up on my wheelchair
In brand new Chanel kicks, only gang member never had to do a jail stint
Real ConCreature, mixin' 'Miri with the Helmut
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
(Stood on the business like I'm twelve six)
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
Real ConCreature, mixin' 'Miri with the Helmut
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec (You hear me? Yeah)
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
Had to place another field bet (Cha ching)
Invested in the pill press and ran me up a real check
Three weeks ago was paralyzed, my people's all was terrified
Been had a blue check, but in the streets you know I'm verified
Got a sale for two P's of powder and a brick in the Cherokee
Right after I do these three hours of physical therapy (I gotta work out)
Countin' my blessings, don't know why he keep sparing me
Got a house around my neck and a kit full of clarity
A half brick of Dolly Parton, Molly by the carton
Too many chop sueys, you know I got a arson
Some of my best clio, always be trying to bargain
Serving on the late-night show, like I'm Johnny Carson
They call me Mr. 1008, 'cause of what I be charging
Big 227, Sig Sauer, this is not a Larkin (227)
Might pull up in a UFO, but I'm not a martian
Off a lot of cough syrup, hoodie Gallery Dept
Real ConCreature, mixin' 'Miri with the Helmut
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
(Switches on switches)
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
Real ConCreature, mixin' 'Miri with the Helmut
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
(Put that switchy on me, ya heard?)
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
Been five days since I broke out of rehab
They had me in there depending on the meds
Poppin' me, pokin' me
Skin poppin' me, stabbin' me, every..
Three, four fuckin' hours
Yeah, got time for that shit
Real creature, nigga
Screws and rods all in my shit
I couldn't do nothin', I couldn't even move my motherfuckin' toes
Three weeks ago, nigga
I'm back standin' on the business
Yeah, back walkin' with my walker
Can stand up out my wheelchair strong
Where we at?
It's the Jacksonville
Two-way, deuce, siete
Legend of Zelda
Game time, mafia, what else?
Hell block, Hully Gully, Drug Zone 76
Where we at?
Let's get it
Ran'd it up on Schoolcraft down the street from Roller Wheels (Yeah)
Thousand beans a day, hit your town with a bowl of pills
With or without the rap game, I got dope for sale
Nigga disrespect the gang, send them to the Holy Grail
You gotta weigh me off the rig to never own the scale
Ghetto nigga, I love pretty bitches with ponytails (Ayy)
All my killers, standin' on the business, live from Soldier Field
Free all my guys in that federal holding cell
Started out on Gilchrist, now we packin' lunches
Catching buses on them field trips
Satchel full of trail mix (Sack up), stood up on my wheelchair
In brand new Chanel kicks, only gang member never had to do a jail stint
Real ConCreature, mixin' 'Miri with the Helmut
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
(Stood on the business like I'm twelve six)
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
Real ConCreature, mixin' 'Miri with the Helmut
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec (You hear me? Yeah)
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
Had to place another field bet (Cha ching)
Invested in the pill press and ran me up a real check
Three weeks ago was paralyzed, my people's all was terrified
Been had a blue check, but in the streets you know I'm verified
Got a sale for two P's of powder and a brick in the Cherokee
Right after I do these three hours of physical therapy (I gotta work out)
Countin' my blessings, don't know why he keep sparing me
Got a house around my neck and a kit full of clarity
A half brick of Dolly Parton, Molly by the carton
Too many chop sueys, you know I got a arson
Some of my best clio, always be trying to bargain
Serving on the late-night show, like I'm Johnny Carson
They call me Mr. 1008, 'cause of what I be charging
Big 227, Sig Sauer, this is not a Larkin (227)
Might pull up in a UFO, but I'm not a martian
Off a lot of cough syrup, hoodie Gallery Dept
Real ConCreature, mixin' 'Miri with the Helmut
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
(Switches on switches)
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
Real ConCreature, mixin' 'Miri with the Helmut
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
(Put that switchy on me, ya heard?)
Hunnid in my chop', buck fifty in my Kel-Tec
Been five days since I broke out of rehab
They had me in there depending on the meds
Poppin' me, pokin' me
Skin poppin' me, stabbin' me, every..
Three, four fuckin' hours
Yeah, got time for that shit
Real creature, nigga
Screws and rods all in my shit
I couldn't do nothin', I couldn't even move my motherfuckin' toes
Three weeks ago, nigga
I'm back standin' on the business
Yeah, back walkin' with my walker
Can stand up out my wheelchair strong
Where we at?
It's the Jacksonville
Two-way, deuce, siete
Legend of Zelda
Game time, mafia, what else?
Hell block, Hully Gully, Drug Zone 76
Where we at?
Let's get it
