Elvis Presley, To do Black Music so selfishly And use it to get myself wealthy (Hey) There's a concept that works 20 million other white rappers emerge
we skated and shit Yeah, ya'll niggas know we skated early Disguised ourselves as the cidic Jews and even left my sideburns curly Bounce to Mexico and spend some pesos And
and I douse with gas now who's cleaning up trash? eat 'em up yum, and your flawed mutha-fuck Billboard and the editor here comes the Predator. get my black rag
' a gat, flippin' a car and all that Now freeze! Me and my g's hitchyour hood like fleas Soldier rag, black 'Bauds, white T's, and Ree's Please, tell
four and a baby, c'mon [Chorus] I'm a t-r-a-p-s-t-ar Got the streets on lock, big shoes on the car And she likes it (she likes it, she likes it) And
once, but twice Kept a stupid thick posse Made of thugs and Crooks and hoods And vet hustlers Who were up to no good But they all stood behind him And
miracle happenin' Jay-Z, Killer Mike and Big Boi rappin' and rhymin' and smabbin' Pop that tag on some of this game Hollatic, swallow and keep the change And
feels so empty, without me So, come on and dip, bum on your lips Fuck that, cum on your lips, and some on your tits And get ready, 'cause this shit's
ass and shanked me with a knife for trying to be down and claim in ghetto life it'll all catch up to you in the end some day you'll be alone and
caught wit a brick told on ya whole click Dats that fuck shit Red rag, blue rag, black rag, yellow flag, Gang bang shit Thats my chick thats my girl you might Call her white
fight peach Take the P off the peach because now you want each and every rhyme to teach and reach You need a fixin, for your fake rhymes lyrics and weak
Jo Black] Yo, yo Everything black is wack and shit Blackheads, blackmail, black cats and shit Funerals, niggaz gotta wear black and shit Black cars, black
it) True shit, you and your city must be on some new shit Gettin on my last nerve, such a damn nuisance Pussy niggaz on the rag, wearin Couture or Juicy
black tee All in your house searchin' For bricks in my black tee Be dressed off in my black tee fitted hat, black gat And some Solja Ree's black rag, black mask And
there and it was quiet And the machines were yearning soft behind you Yearning for that nigga to come and give up his life Standin' there bein' dissed and broke and
brittle when the bass rocks So I got a little somethin in the glovebox Long black hair with the white rag 40 cent faygo in a brown bag Jump steady, rude boy, and
meet "Why are you so happy", said the clean white buck "You got no reason to be happy, Mr Time" And Willie would stop and just pop his rag With a Dixie
Caribou Lou and KC Tea They want madness Anghellic and sadness Fans relish when gladness is damned Devilish and ashes But I like this cash This massive magazine ad Gets crackin Attractive chicks passin Is rap and
