Heads Gone Roll Remix
Party Records
Sammy Adams
I'm On
Bees knees
Little homie I'm the item 9
Yea, you get slapped like a bitch if you outta line
Cross joints so that shit leave me in the sky
No shoot god damn, well I guess it's time to fly
And we could goin on fuckin' anything
You and your boy want techno rap or country fuckin' r&
Don't compare home boys to me
I'm in another genre, way out the gal-lax-y
Ya'll could never see me, No
Never play my game
Never roll them dice that you never learn a thing
I, I do my thing for the 6-1-7 mang
This the Boston's boy, killin' it is you know ain't nothin change
I'm Back on the radio but the don't see my chains
I might have something trendy but I keep it baggy in my jeans
Party records on the scene, bitches scream for 2 hours in a dream
The bass drops crack, eat a pill, and be a fiend
Come on
(Chorus)
Glitter on the west streets (yea, yea I'm on)
Silver over everything (oh, oh I'm on)
The rivers all wet (yea yea, I'm on)
You're all chrome (I'm on, I'm on)
Glitter on the west streets
Silver over everything
The rivers all wet
You're all chrome
(Verse 2)
Oh, here's the part where I come in
Hit it and make another damn track again
Say this is the same ol' me, huh friends
Still mad I'm in the spot with Sam
Got my chance, locked it in
Now girls wanna interlock with him
Swaggin just past 'em you try jazz em(?) yep
Try stoppin' him
Peligrino bubbly, If I could I don't know what I'm gonna get
Soon too cause I disagree with the prices in this bitch, yea
White boy who could tie a tie
Got the benefits from the neighborhood to rely
Got a dog at home where your homie lies
I'm the center for the team, don't be surprised
I can't stop trippin over a million I'm remixing
Place so hot every I get finished
Paper lights
Everybody got the bass and mic up
Blow trees in your face you get stuck
Blow trees in your face you get stuck
Blow trees in your face you get stuck
Cause we on
(Back to chorus)