Lyrics JPEGMAFIA – Boyz 2 Men
Text:
JPEGMAFIA:
«Darlin’ I
I can’t explain
Where did we lose our way
And I know I just need one more chance
To prove my love to you
And if you come back to me
I’ll guarantee
That I’ll never let you go»
«Can we go back to the day that I was ?
Can you tell me how a perfect love goes on?
Can somebody tell me how to get things back to the way they used to be?
Oh God give me the reason I’m ?
abandon me»
Uh, nah
Uh, can’t hear myself
Uh, but it’s cool
Uh, Butchy
Woah, check
I don’t need to know
Imma just go at it
Imma just go at a motherfucker
?
motherfucker
Motherfuckers out the way
?
Butchy
Butch Dawson:
Ok, what up
On my shit
Put my foot up
Work that wrist
Watch me cook up
Where’s your bitch?
Damn, I took her
Ok, what up
Ok, what up
Don’t just run up
Gotta put the gun up
Ok what up
Grind ’til the son up
All black Hummer?
Smokin’ on stunna
Too stone cold get froze by fridgidair
K visionairs got flare from the gutter
All black timbs and potato
Bread butters
Stompin’ your click
I do shit that you could’ve
Ok, what up
It’s no other
Still with the gang but I’m solo, brother
Funny how black is
Considered as colored
Ok, what up
Ok, what up
Butchy, baby
Don’t lose yourself
You would do you if you knew yourself
But you’re doing niggas like the man
Still catching heat like a tan
Ok, what up
What’s the plan?
We mobbin’, we robbin’, we raging? Damn
I aim at you scholars my shit won’t jam
Then hand with my partners
Yeah, that’s the fam
(In this motherfucker)
JPEGMAFIA:
Moonwalk on a nigga face
Slap your man then catch the 8th
2Chainz on my side piece
I know real shottas
They don’t fuck with Drake
Telling on me cause I’m keeping pace
Sus boys always take the bait
Sissy niggas got no hope
Hitting high notes when they catch a case
Damn boy, how much bread you made?
Veteran but you never paid
Trinidadian or Dominican
I’m protected when I’m going out of state
Double up, bitch I guess I’m mass
Real ass but the hair fake
Once again I’m in another state
With another gun
In your nigga face
Call me Mikey dread
Sippin’ suda fed
Whoop a nigga like case then
Talking to the feds
HIt ’em with lead
Take his picture like a liscense
This expensive shit
A different kind of lick
My trigger finger itching
Right hand
Fuck a scraper boy
Like him
I’m spinning on him like bison
Freaky:
I’m no Bounty, Paper towel
Ay, ow
Spin ?
on myself
Side of me make you say
Boy, you ?
make you say
Boy, you love ?
self
I don’t know a God dang thing about mental health