Trotter, a.k.a. [BT/Tariq Trotter] Well um, Black Thought from The Roots y'all [?uestion/Ahmir Thompson] Mr. Simmons, a.k.a. [AJ/Joseph Simmons] A.J.
that I like that (hey yeah) really never was a rich man A rubber band full of wrist bands Got dough and had to switch plans Trouble still don't stop
T-shirt Jeans Jordan's And a bubble watch Block man Every color band I'm sayin I switch every time the wind blow When I ain't putting it down Playin around You could catch me in that
, bitch A lot of Much Clown love, hey, Vato You fuck, I guess you don't know Never kill around here, hey, Vato Yeah, bitch, it's all about Clown love
got, a lot of sand We got a hot crustacean band Each little clam here Know how to jam here under the sea Each little slug here Cutin? a rug here under
some killers that'll get that work up out 'em I don?t got love for you busta's, unless you my kinfolk Yeah, you smell that fruity fruit every time the
so fat rubber bands can't hold Stacks so fat rubber bands can't hold Stacks so fat rubber bands can't hold it, no They can't hold it, no, they can't
with crazy flows and it expanded quickly Tech Ninnas band of hippies Ran the sh-t we handed strictly I landed scripts that damaged emcees Ripped these calamitously and I ain't have nothin' not a
, nigga, I go face, diablo With a hostile gospel, if I can't have tres or cuatro Little vatos, I'm a let a lot flow What the sell, up in Osco, up a nostril That
if your money ain't right you speakin French to me Miss Trina don't play with me Or you can say Miss Bigg, that's okay with me You need a grand just to
we ain't trippin off chips Everybody on they feet Now we the most hated bye the haters Studio parkin lot fulla Benzos an navigators Man the streets are freezin Keep that
you dont say a thing it's just so nice ????????? but nice dont mean a fucking thing to me you don't fool me you ...ain't it! you ...ain't
your woman home alone She can't raise the children with no daddy She can't love a man that's always gone It takes a whole lot more than pride To keep
with a rebel flag But I don't wear make-up or dress in drag I smoke a lot, I'm a whiskey drinker I ain't no hick songwriter, I'm a pretty deep thinker
place raising hell, he thinks the band is too loud He's a bitchin' too much 'cause he's drawing a crowd Pulling a lot of good music and a whole lot of
me stomach pain I wish that you were here, we would have had a lot to talk about We had a deal there, we nearly signed it with our blood An understanding, I thought that
got? A lot of sand, we got a hot crustacean band Each little clam here Know how to jam here under the sea Each little slug here Cuttin' a rug here under
got, a lot of sand We got a hot crustacean band Each little clam here Know how to jam here under the sea Each little slug here Cutin a rug here under