Thursday 11 November 2010

THE SAMBA THELONIOUS THEORY LYRICS

Hello my ladies, Hello my fellas
Lets get this money
Ayyy
Q and thelonious (uh uh)
We owning this (uh)
Like you aint knowing this!

So let these stars hit you
Till you fall and lose your balance
Like the roc boy ,mmmm
I open up my mouth
And come out fresher
Than an altoy
That rap shit
Giant pain and silence
Kill that wack sh*t
That 20 pounds of composition
Books up on your mac sh*t
World wide the scriptures
Get me spotted on the atlas
Banging beats
And placing minor competitions in a casket
Dodging traffic, please
You couldn’t hang a rope on oak trees
Reasons why I keep my standards
Higher than a nose bleed,
Higher than a hippy in the 60’s,
Smoking dope weed,
Higher than a Sixer,
Calvin Mercer and his colleagues,
Higher then Pacino sniffin' soda
Watching Low Bleed,
Admire verbal essence as I proceed,
Please just let me breathe.

Hello my ladies, Hello my fellas
Lets get this money
Ayyy
Q and thelonious (uh uh)
We owning this (uh)
Like you aint knowing this!

Im tryna get that Irv Gotti money
Back when rule was sporting head bands,
And dudes shouted murder like they slipped
And see a dead man,
Guess I gotta walk through muddy waters like I’m Red Man
Tryna keep my balance like a headstand,
Come up out that swamp without a stain obtain my land and chuck a deuce up,
Running into strangers who convinced themselves they knew us,
Interviewers interview us,
Staring at the reporters,
Like we basic and oblivious
To shit they try and throw us,
And we laugh,
Chuckles to the mattress with the knife cuts,
Glancing at the models with the nice buts,
Who like us,
Precise cus’,
Fade into the 97’ escort,
Word to my barber,
Cut the check though,
Please just let me breathe.

Hello my ladies, Hello my fellas
Lets get this money
Ayyy
Q and thelonious (uh uh)
We owning this (eh)
Like you aint knowing this!

Time is of the essence
So I always count my blessings
More than mishaps,Rappers still complaining out whats wack inside
Their chit chat,
Acting how a b*tch acts,
Makes me wanna quit rap,
Like Christian Ward did,When Maino hit him with that bitch slap,
Clown face crying through the smiles I tend to force now,
Hoping I don’t run into the act of being brought down,
Notoriety has got me questioning my self worth,
Guess I’m in the state ere all my thoughts are drawn from hell first,
But,
Lessons of living got driven like the artist acts,
Keep a steady hand,
When facing drama,
Calling all the shots,
Homie its hard as rock,
Rolling on a honest block,
Hoping that them liars never breed,
Please just let me breathe.

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