She keep talkin' 'bout gettin' plastic surgery, I really hope she don't
And I wish I was the type that really enjoyed writin' the notes
Video wit' Quik and Suga Free, but that wasn't no boat
Them yachts out in Newport, tell me, 'Who on your boat?'
While niggas lie about it, my soul girls cry about it
I'm not a member of Black Hippy, but I recognize higher power
You could eat pickles that's sour and sit in L.A. for hours
And you still wouldn't know what it felt like back in '91
And at 3:25, that's when my pops known to drive
Somebody said I should look for a house out in Oceanside
I'm from OPM, baby, got to get that straight
So you know it turn me on, I see her fix my plate
Told her, 'Look at the album cover if you ever miss my face'
I hope I'm on that shit like Eric B. and Rakim, sucker
Her mom said, 'Cut that song, uh, yeah, that is bumpin''
'Bout time you found somebody out here
That's really sayin' somethin'
I think I'm addicted to dippin' down Normandie
This could've been distributed by Priority
Instead we keepin' all the royalties
I stopped wearin' chains cause niggas' shit lookin' foily
And I heard what Chris Brown said, but I dick her down loyally
I have to interrupt, lookin' at your spoiled butt
Only raised by women, so you got waist and rhythms
To get my attention through a dashboard
Why you think little teenage boys always crash more?
Lookin' at the new 11s, thinkin' 'bout gettin' cash
Or waitin' on hoes to start shakin' that ass more
I never been the guy in France, but I made movies in my block
L.A. New Era hat and Shawn Stussy
Aw, f*ck it, I can't tell y'all shit, except, 'Get to it'
Gangsters used to wear nice shirts and drive big Buicks
Now this nigga on the Internet tryin' to pitch music
Nobody want to hear that shit
Dom Kennedy - By Dom Kennedy Album Lyrics
Dom Kennedy - By Dom Kennedy Lyrics
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
My First Reply (Till It's Over)
She keep talkin' 'bout gettin' plastic surgery, I really hope she don't
And I wish I was the type that really enjoyed writin' the notes
Video wit' Quik and Suga Free, but that wasn't no boat
Them yachts out in Newport, tell me, 'Who on your boat?'
While niggas lie about it, my soul girls cry about it
I'm not a member of Black Hippy, but I recognize higher power
You could eat pickles that's sour and sit in L.A. for hours
And you still wouldn't know what it felt like back in '91
And at 3:25, that's when my pops known to drive
Somebody said I should look for a house out in Oceanside
I'm from OPM, baby, got to get that straight
So you know it turn me on, I see her fix my plate
Told her, 'Look at the album cover if you ever miss my face'
I hope I'm on that shit like Eric B. and Rakim, sucker
Her mom said, 'Cut that song, uh, yeah, that is bumpin''
'Bout time you found somebody out here
That's really sayin' somethin'
I think I'm addicted to dippin' down Normandie
This could've been distributed by Priority
Instead we keepin' all the royalties
I stopped wearin' chains cause niggas' shit lookin' foily
And I heard what Chris Brown said, but I dick her down loyally
I have to interrupt, lookin' at your spoiled butt
Only raised by women, so you got waist and rhythms
To get my attention through a dashboard
Why you think little teenage boys always crash more?
Lookin' at the new 11s, thinkin' 'bout gettin' cash
Or waitin' on hoes to start shakin' that ass more
I never been the guy in France, but I made movies in my block
L.A. New Era hat and Shawn Stussy
Aw, f*ck it, I can't tell y'all shit, except, 'Get to it'
Gangsters used to wear nice shirts and drive big Buicks
Now this nigga on the Internet tryin' to pitch music
Nobody want to hear that shit
And I wish I was the type that really enjoyed writin' the notes
Video wit' Quik and Suga Free, but that wasn't no boat
Them yachts out in Newport, tell me, 'Who on your boat?'
While niggas lie about it, my soul girls cry about it
I'm not a member of Black Hippy, but I recognize higher power
You could eat pickles that's sour and sit in L.A. for hours
And you still wouldn't know what it felt like back in '91
And at 3:25, that's when my pops known to drive
Somebody said I should look for a house out in Oceanside
I'm from OPM, baby, got to get that straight
So you know it turn me on, I see her fix my plate
Told her, 'Look at the album cover if you ever miss my face'
I hope I'm on that shit like Eric B. and Rakim, sucker
Her mom said, 'Cut that song, uh, yeah, that is bumpin''
'Bout time you found somebody out here
That's really sayin' somethin'
I think I'm addicted to dippin' down Normandie
This could've been distributed by Priority
Instead we keepin' all the royalties
I stopped wearin' chains cause niggas' shit lookin' foily
And I heard what Chris Brown said, but I dick her down loyally
I have to interrupt, lookin' at your spoiled butt
Only raised by women, so you got waist and rhythms
To get my attention through a dashboard
Why you think little teenage boys always crash more?
Lookin' at the new 11s, thinkin' 'bout gettin' cash
Or waitin' on hoes to start shakin' that ass more
I never been the guy in France, but I made movies in my block
L.A. New Era hat and Shawn Stussy
Aw, f*ck it, I can't tell y'all shit, except, 'Get to it'
Gangsters used to wear nice shirts and drive big Buicks
Now this nigga on the Internet tryin' to pitch music
Nobody want to hear that shit
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
On My Hometown / Nobody Else
She keep talkin' 'bout gettin' plastic surgery, I really hope she don't
And I wish I was the type that really enjoyed writin' the notes
Video wit' Quik and Suga Free, but that wasn't no boat
Them yachts out in Newport, tell me, 'Who on your boat?'
While niggas lie about it, my soul girls cry about it
I'm not a member of Black Hippy, but I recognize higher power
You could eat pickles that's sour and sit in L.A. for hours
And you still wouldn't know what it felt like back in '91
And at 3:25, that's when my pops known to drive
Somebody said I should look for a house out in Oceanside
I'm from OPM, baby, got to get that straight
So you know it turn me on, I see her fix my plate
Told her, 'Look at the album cover if you ever miss my face'
I hope I'm on that shit like Eric B. and Rakim, sucker
Her mom said, 'Cut that song, uh, yeah, that is bumpin''
'Bout time you found somebody out here
That's really sayin' somethin'
I think I'm addicted to dippin' down Normandie
This could've been distributed by Priority
Instead we keepin' all the royalties
I stopped wearin' chains cause niggas' shit lookin' foily
And I heard what Chris Brown said, but I dick her down loyally
I have to interrupt, lookin' at your spoiled butt
Only raised by women, so you got waist and rhythms
To get my attention through a dashboard
Why you think little teenage boys always crash more?
Lookin' at the new 11s, thinkin' 'bout gettin' cash
Or waitin' on hoes to start shakin' that ass more
I never been the guy in France, but I made movies in my block
L.A. New Era hat and Shawn Stussy
Aw, f*ck it, I can't tell y'all shit, except, 'Get to it'
Gangsters used to wear nice shirts and drive big Buicks
Now this nigga on the Internet tryin' to pitch music
Nobody want to hear that shit
And I wish I was the type that really enjoyed writin' the notes
Video wit' Quik and Suga Free, but that wasn't no boat
Them yachts out in Newport, tell me, 'Who on your boat?'
While niggas lie about it, my soul girls cry about it
I'm not a member of Black Hippy, but I recognize higher power
You could eat pickles that's sour and sit in L.A. for hours
And you still wouldn't know what it felt like back in '91
And at 3:25, that's when my pops known to drive
Somebody said I should look for a house out in Oceanside
I'm from OPM, baby, got to get that straight
So you know it turn me on, I see her fix my plate
Told her, 'Look at the album cover if you ever miss my face'
I hope I'm on that shit like Eric B. and Rakim, sucker
Her mom said, 'Cut that song, uh, yeah, that is bumpin''
'Bout time you found somebody out here
That's really sayin' somethin'
I think I'm addicted to dippin' down Normandie
This could've been distributed by Priority
Instead we keepin' all the royalties
I stopped wearin' chains cause niggas' shit lookin' foily
And I heard what Chris Brown said, but I dick her down loyally
I have to interrupt, lookin' at your spoiled butt
Only raised by women, so you got waist and rhythms
To get my attention through a dashboard
Why you think little teenage boys always crash more?
Lookin' at the new 11s, thinkin' 'bout gettin' cash
Or waitin' on hoes to start shakin' that ass more
I never been the guy in France, but I made movies in my block
L.A. New Era hat and Shawn Stussy
Aw, f*ck it, I can't tell y'all shit, except, 'Get to it'
Gangsters used to wear nice shirts and drive big Buicks
Now this nigga on the Internet tryin' to pitch music
Nobody want to hear that shit
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Represent (I Like That)
She keep talkin' 'bout gettin' plastic surgery, I really hope she don't
And I wish I was the type that really enjoyed writin' the notes
Video wit' Quik and Suga Free, but that wasn't no boat
Them yachts out in Newport, tell me, 'Who on your boat?'
While niggas lie about it, my soul girls cry about it
I'm not a member of Black Hippy, but I recognize higher power
You could eat pickles that's sour and sit in L.A. for hours
And you still wouldn't know what it felt like back in '91
And at 3:25, that's when my pops known to drive
Somebody said I should look for a house out in Oceanside
I'm from OPM, baby, got to get that straight
So you know it turn me on, I see her fix my plate
Told her, 'Look at the album cover if you ever miss my face'
I hope I'm on that shit like Eric B. and Rakim, sucker
Her mom said, 'Cut that song, uh, yeah, that is bumpin''
'Bout time you found somebody out here
That's really sayin' somethin'
I think I'm addicted to dippin' down Normandie
This could've been distributed by Priority
Instead we keepin' all the royalties
I stopped wearin' chains cause niggas' shit lookin' foily
And I heard what Chris Brown said, but I dick her down loyally
I have to interrupt, lookin' at your spoiled butt
Only raised by women, so you got waist and rhythms
To get my attention through a dashboard
Why you think little teenage boys always crash more?
Lookin' at the new 11s, thinkin' 'bout gettin' cash
Or waitin' on hoes to start shakin' that ass more
I never been the guy in France, but I made movies in my block
L.A. New Era hat and Shawn Stussy
Aw, f*ck it, I can't tell y'all shit, except, 'Get to it'
Gangsters used to wear nice shirts and drive big Buicks
Now this nigga on the Internet tryin' to pitch music
Nobody want to hear that shit
And I wish I was the type that really enjoyed writin' the notes
Video wit' Quik and Suga Free, but that wasn't no boat
Them yachts out in Newport, tell me, 'Who on your boat?'
While niggas lie about it, my soul girls cry about it
I'm not a member of Black Hippy, but I recognize higher power
You could eat pickles that's sour and sit in L.A. for hours
And you still wouldn't know what it felt like back in '91
And at 3:25, that's when my pops known to drive
Somebody said I should look for a house out in Oceanside
I'm from OPM, baby, got to get that straight
So you know it turn me on, I see her fix my plate
Told her, 'Look at the album cover if you ever miss my face'
I hope I'm on that shit like Eric B. and Rakim, sucker
Her mom said, 'Cut that song, uh, yeah, that is bumpin''
'Bout time you found somebody out here
That's really sayin' somethin'
I think I'm addicted to dippin' down Normandie
This could've been distributed by Priority
Instead we keepin' all the royalties
I stopped wearin' chains cause niggas' shit lookin' foily
And I heard what Chris Brown said, but I dick her down loyally
I have to interrupt, lookin' at your spoiled butt
Only raised by women, so you got waist and rhythms
To get my attention through a dashboard
Why you think little teenage boys always crash more?
Lookin' at the new 11s, thinkin' 'bout gettin' cash
Or waitin' on hoes to start shakin' that ass more
I never been the guy in France, but I made movies in my block
L.A. New Era hat and Shawn Stussy
Aw, f*ck it, I can't tell y'all shit, except, 'Get to it'
Gangsters used to wear nice shirts and drive big Buicks
Now this nigga on the Internet tryin' to pitch music
Nobody want to hear that shit
Writer: DOMINIC HUNN, JASON POUNDS
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
What I Tell Kids
And all they know
Could tell his VS by how the chain glow
Or how the Range roll
It's a man's world and it's all about money
And who am I to interfere?
When that new Benz drive, foo', I'm tryin' to change years
See how you changed tears
Grandmama never thought we'd be as hot as we is
I'm rappin' for the kids, eatin' lima bean and ribs
Cleanin' off my rims, man, I used to dream big
And now I'm the focal point
Me and Krondon show in Poland at a local joint
Tryin' to get my lettuce fixed, my credit "F*ck y'all"
I'm just gettin' the rust off, she lickin' my nuts off
My R. Kelly T-shirt, I think that it rubbed off
We eatin' that Roscoe's, what's up wit' the hot sauce?
You lookin' like you got somethin' in that big-ass purse
Your daddy got you that
Would you run up in this bank though wit' a stockin' cap
Anybody move, guns up, then cock it back?
That's the decision some men got to make to feed they families
I'm not tellin' you this story to win a Grammy
I'm just sayin' you should consider that
Next time you're in L.A. wit' your jewelry on like it's Miami
Feel me? So did I make myself clear?
Cryin' to my mum to buy me a new pair
Now I need enough to last ninety-two years
I got ninety-nine problems, but cars ain't toppin' them
I'm just like my uncle, I just can't stop coppin' 'em
I could be president, but I ain't that popular
Uh, I don't know what's stoppin' you
Too bitches kissin', rubbin' each other
I'm just layin' back watchin' 'em
OPM, bitch, let it rain like the Doppler
No matter the weather we put shit together, yeah
Bring me closer though
Could tell his VS by how the chain glow
Or how the Range roll
It's a man's world and it's all about money
And who am I to interfere?
When that new Benz drive, foo', I'm tryin' to change years
See how you changed tears
Grandmama never thought we'd be as hot as we is
I'm rappin' for the kids, eatin' lima bean and ribs
Cleanin' off my rims, man, I used to dream big
And now I'm the focal point
Me and Krondon show in Poland at a local joint
Tryin' to get my lettuce fixed, my credit "F*ck y'all"
I'm just gettin' the rust off, she lickin' my nuts off
My R. Kelly T-shirt, I think that it rubbed off
We eatin' that Roscoe's, what's up wit' the hot sauce?
You lookin' like you got somethin' in that big-ass purse
Your daddy got you that
Would you run up in this bank though wit' a stockin' cap
Anybody move, guns up, then cock it back?
That's the decision some men got to make to feed they families
I'm not tellin' you this story to win a Grammy
I'm just sayin' you should consider that
Next time you're in L.A. wit' your jewelry on like it's Miami
Feel me? So did I make myself clear?
Cryin' to my mum to buy me a new pair
Now I need enough to last ninety-two years
I got ninety-nine problems, but cars ain't toppin' them
I'm just like my uncle, I just can't stop coppin' 'em
I could be president, but I ain't that popular
Uh, I don't know what's stoppin' you
Too bitches kissin', rubbin' each other
I'm just layin' back watchin' 'em
OPM, bitch, let it rain like the Doppler
No matter the weather we put shit together, yeah
Bring me closer though
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Fried Lobster
She keep talkin' 'bout gettin' plastic surgery, I really hope she don't
And I wish I was the type that really enjoyed writin' the notes
Video wit' Quik and Suga Free, but that wasn't no boat
Them yachts out in Newport, tell me, 'Who on your boat?'
While niggas lie about it, my soul girls cry about it
I'm not a member of Black Hippy, but I recognize higher power
You could eat pickles that's sour and sit in L.A. for hours
And you still wouldn't know what it felt like back in '91
And at 3:25, that's when my pops known to drive
Somebody said I should look for a house out in Oceanside
I'm from OPM, baby, got to get that straight
So you know it turn me on, I see her fix my plate
Told her, 'Look at the album cover if you ever miss my face'
I hope I'm on that shit like Eric B. and Rakim, sucker
Her mom said, 'Cut that song, uh, yeah, that is bumpin''
'Bout time you found somebody out here
That's really sayin' somethin'
I think I'm addicted to dippin' down Normandie
This could've been distributed by Priority
Instead we keepin' all the royalties
I stopped wearin' chains cause niggas' shit lookin' foily
And I heard what Chris Brown said, but I dick her down loyally
I have to interrupt, lookin' at your spoiled butt
Only raised by women, so you got waist and rhythms
To get my attention through a dashboard
Why you think little teenage boys always crash more?
Lookin' at the new 11s, thinkin' 'bout gettin' cash
Or waitin' on hoes to start shakin' that ass more
I never been the guy in France, but I made movies in my block
L.A. New Era hat and Shawn Stussy
Aw, f*ck it, I can't tell y'all shit, except, 'Get to it'
Gangsters used to wear nice shirts and drive big Buicks
Now this nigga on the Internet tryin' to pitch music
Nobody want to hear that shit
And I wish I was the type that really enjoyed writin' the notes
Video wit' Quik and Suga Free, but that wasn't no boat
Them yachts out in Newport, tell me, 'Who on your boat?'
While niggas lie about it, my soul girls cry about it
I'm not a member of Black Hippy, but I recognize higher power
You could eat pickles that's sour and sit in L.A. for hours
And you still wouldn't know what it felt like back in '91
And at 3:25, that's when my pops known to drive
Somebody said I should look for a house out in Oceanside
I'm from OPM, baby, got to get that straight
So you know it turn me on, I see her fix my plate
Told her, 'Look at the album cover if you ever miss my face'
I hope I'm on that shit like Eric B. and Rakim, sucker
Her mom said, 'Cut that song, uh, yeah, that is bumpin''
'Bout time you found somebody out here
That's really sayin' somethin'
I think I'm addicted to dippin' down Normandie
This could've been distributed by Priority
Instead we keepin' all the royalties
I stopped wearin' chains cause niggas' shit lookin' foily
And I heard what Chris Brown said, but I dick her down loyally
I have to interrupt, lookin' at your spoiled butt
Only raised by women, so you got waist and rhythms
To get my attention through a dashboard
Why you think little teenage boys always crash more?
Lookin' at the new 11s, thinkin' 'bout gettin' cash
Or waitin' on hoes to start shakin' that ass more
I never been the guy in France, but I made movies in my block
L.A. New Era hat and Shawn Stussy
Aw, f*ck it, I can't tell y'all shit, except, 'Get to it'
Gangsters used to wear nice shirts and drive big Buicks
Now this nigga on the Internet tryin' to pitch music
Nobody want to hear that shit
Writer: Dominic Hunn
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Thank You Biggie
[Hook:]
Things change when you grow up
Now everybody want to show up
Talkin' 'bout, 'I knew that you would blow up'
When I was young, my favorite song was
'Get money, get money' Weight of the world on my shoulder
But I'm still gettin' colder, so keep it real
Like, on a comedy about who run rap
Cause L.A. is on top now and who run that?
I've been all facts, I base my shit off that
But for sixty-five grand, y'all could switch my hat
To the Seahawks cause I'm always down for the money
And niggas always talkin' 'bout me when they strugglin'
I guess that's why my champagne always bubblin'
Two girls in the indoor pool out in London
At Dizzee Rascal flat, they sent my ass some cash
But all he do is rap, you want to hang out and relax?
Go shoppin' in Saks, hella bags in the back
And when I see her again, motherf*cker, she next
I don't talk to her everyday, but we text
And when I throw that Biggie on, she don't even trip
I asked her to roll a joint and she don't even flinch
Dom K. is a pimp, you don't even need the blimp
I know you could tell I'm nasty, though my lyrics is classy
I'm not really that flashy, but I do like shrimp
Wit' some lemon butter sauce and a cold white Zinf
Somebody to talk to and share a view like this
Cause I been rollin' fashions, at least them attraction
Got dressed up for me, I do appreciate that, woah
[Hook:]
Things change when you grow up
Now everybody want to show up
Talkin' 'bout, 'I knew that you would blow up'
When I was young, my favorite song was
'Get money, get money' Weight of the world on my shoulder
But I'm still gettin' colder, so keep it real
Things change when you grow up
Now everybody want to show up
Talkin' 'bout, 'I knew that you would blow up'
When I was young, my favorite song was
'Get money, get money' Weight of the world on my shoulder
But I'm still gettin' colder, so keep it real
Like, on a comedy about who run rap
Cause L.A. is on top now and who run that?
I've been all facts, I base my shit off that
But for sixty-five grand, y'all could switch my hat
To the Seahawks cause I'm always down for the money
And niggas always talkin' 'bout me when they strugglin'
I guess that's why my champagne always bubblin'
Two girls in the indoor pool out in London
At Dizzee Rascal flat, they sent my ass some cash
But all he do is rap, you want to hang out and relax?
Go shoppin' in Saks, hella bags in the back
And when I see her again, motherf*cker, she next
I don't talk to her everyday, but we text
And when I throw that Biggie on, she don't even trip
I asked her to roll a joint and she don't even flinch
Dom K. is a pimp, you don't even need the blimp
I know you could tell I'm nasty, though my lyrics is classy
I'm not really that flashy, but I do like shrimp
Wit' some lemon butter sauce and a cold white Zinf
Somebody to talk to and share a view like this
Cause I been rollin' fashions, at least them attraction
Got dressed up for me, I do appreciate that, woah
[Hook:]
Things change when you grow up
Now everybody want to show up
Talkin' 'bout, 'I knew that you would blow up'
When I was young, my favorite song was
'Get money, get money' Weight of the world on my shoulder
But I'm still gettin' colder, so keep it real
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Lemonade
Can't make no real decision based on emotion
You especially can't make no money
And I'm here to get paid
Sit with my son in the shade, sippin' lemonade
If that's his favorite, I'll buy it
I mix mine with iced tea, I let him try it
If I told you I have fo' million in the bank, I'd be lyin'
If I told you I was broke, you wouldn't believe me, anyways
So it's a good thing I'm not, takin' pictures in the fox
I remember when we used to be in here eatin' Whoppers
Rollin' five homies deep, mall security would stop us
'What ya'll up to? Ay, ya'll ain't shoppin', ya'll ain't workin'
Ya'll just makin' people nervous with them backpacks
Size thirty-eighty jeans, and you got your hat back'
That's another trademark, we was on the fast track
In the midst of growin' up, memories from, like, threesome
Through all the ups and downs
I always felt we was gon' be somethin'
At eighteen months old, through a smile, I see teeth comin'
Now all he wanna drink is lemonade
[Hook:]
Good thing it don't take much to make that
It's a good thing it don't take much to make that
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze, water, sugar, lemon
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze, water, sugar, lemon
Just another Friday in the studio
Truck ain't ready yet, just got the text from Julio
Rydell Chevrolet in Northridge, yes, I did
'Aren't you Dom Kennedy?' 'Yeah, yes, I is'
And I might have never blew the charts out
But girls still rock my T-shirt with they hearts out
Ay, and you know what I mean, player
250 a pop, them A.P.C. jeans, player
Uh, I be shoppin', I ain't frontin'
I could buy you what you wanted with my backpack
Let me get my notepad, a pencil, or a pen
Leave me in the studio
I guarantee when you come in I'll be finished
Cause I probably got a ticket f*ckin' parkin'
Hate quiet neighborhoods, I'm used to hearin' dogs barkin'
Kids runnin', now formula is no longer the formula
Cause all he wanna drink is lemonade
[Hook:]
Good thing it don't take much to make that
It's a good thing it don't take much to make that
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze, water, sugar, lemon
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze, water, sugar, lemon
You especially can't make no money
And I'm here to get paid
Sit with my son in the shade, sippin' lemonade
If that's his favorite, I'll buy it
I mix mine with iced tea, I let him try it
If I told you I have fo' million in the bank, I'd be lyin'
If I told you I was broke, you wouldn't believe me, anyways
So it's a good thing I'm not, takin' pictures in the fox
I remember when we used to be in here eatin' Whoppers
Rollin' five homies deep, mall security would stop us
'What ya'll up to? Ay, ya'll ain't shoppin', ya'll ain't workin'
Ya'll just makin' people nervous with them backpacks
Size thirty-eighty jeans, and you got your hat back'
That's another trademark, we was on the fast track
In the midst of growin' up, memories from, like, threesome
Through all the ups and downs
I always felt we was gon' be somethin'
At eighteen months old, through a smile, I see teeth comin'
Now all he wanna drink is lemonade
[Hook:]
Good thing it don't take much to make that
It's a good thing it don't take much to make that
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze, water, sugar, lemon
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze, water, sugar, lemon
Just another Friday in the studio
Truck ain't ready yet, just got the text from Julio
Rydell Chevrolet in Northridge, yes, I did
'Aren't you Dom Kennedy?' 'Yeah, yes, I is'
And I might have never blew the charts out
But girls still rock my T-shirt with they hearts out
Ay, and you know what I mean, player
250 a pop, them A.P.C. jeans, player
Uh, I be shoppin', I ain't frontin'
I could buy you what you wanted with my backpack
Let me get my notepad, a pencil, or a pen
Leave me in the studio
I guarantee when you come in I'll be finished
Cause I probably got a ticket f*ckin' parkin'
Hate quiet neighborhoods, I'm used to hearin' dogs barkin'
Kids runnin', now formula is no longer the formula
Cause all he wanna drink is lemonade
[Hook:]
Good thing it don't take much to make that
It's a good thing it don't take much to make that
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze, water, sugar, lemon
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze
Water, sugar, lemon, squeeze, water, sugar, lemon
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
2 Bad
[Hook - Tish Hyman:]
You're too bad, baby, I just had to tell you
You're too bad and now I wanna get familiar
You're too bad, oh, gotta get to know ya
You're too bad, yeah, girl, you're too bad
[Dom Kennedy:]
Bet they never saw this comin'
Size 5'6" crop top and hip-huggers
Cinnamon Big Red MAC gloss, her lips covered
Couldn't tell you how I felt then, hope this does it
And when we out in public, got you blushin' and all that
Hook my homeboy up wit' ya cousin and all that
We can hop in my third whip and swerve shit, my turn
Aye, how many times you heard this? (You're too bad)
But you don't make me nervous
I take you somewhere phones ain't got service
Grab a twelve-pack, let me nail that
Aye, I can't even smell that
And I can tell that you treat your body well
Gon' give 'em hell, yeah
We pullin' up for real, Benz like Denzel, yep
Watchin' Mo' Better Blues from rooms with way better views
If we talkin' 'bout for you, then it ain't no better dude, feel me?
[Hook - Tish Hyman:]
You're too bad, baby, I just had to tell you
You're too bad and now I wanna get familiar
You're too bad, oh, gotta get to know ya
You're too bad, yeah, girl, you're too bad
[Dom Kennedy:]
Aye, and I never saw this comin'
Runnin' through twelve-pack magnums, them big rubbers
Now she wit' OPM, we can do big numbers
Her old boyfriend realizin' he did love her
I wake up every mornin' same time, like ten-somethin'
Do some push-ups, couple crunches to "Been Thuggin'"
Hit the studio, [lighter flick], and I spend somethin'
Buy a house first, then I'm a go get my wrist flooded
Cause money get niggas in the club, the list doesn't
I only wanna wear my own clothes like Ben Hundreds
And stay in big casinos, navy chinos
All weed, nigga, no premos, haha yeah
Still watchin' Mo' Better Blues
Stay in, order food, white robe, get her nude (Woo)
From rooms with way better views
If we talkin' 'bout for you, then it ain't no better dude, feel me?
[Hook - Tish Hyman:]
You're too bad, baby, I just had to tell you
You're too bad and now I wanna get familiar
You're too bad, oh, gotta get to know ya
You're too bad, yeah, girl, you're too bad
You're too bad, baby, I just had to tell you
You're too bad and now I wanna get familiar
You're too bad, oh, gotta get to know ya
You're too bad, yeah, girl, you're too bad
[Dom Kennedy:]
Bet they never saw this comin'
Size 5'6" crop top and hip-huggers
Cinnamon Big Red MAC gloss, her lips covered
Couldn't tell you how I felt then, hope this does it
And when we out in public, got you blushin' and all that
Hook my homeboy up wit' ya cousin and all that
We can hop in my third whip and swerve shit, my turn
Aye, how many times you heard this? (You're too bad)
But you don't make me nervous
I take you somewhere phones ain't got service
Grab a twelve-pack, let me nail that
Aye, I can't even smell that
And I can tell that you treat your body well
Gon' give 'em hell, yeah
We pullin' up for real, Benz like Denzel, yep
Watchin' Mo' Better Blues from rooms with way better views
If we talkin' 'bout for you, then it ain't no better dude, feel me?
[Hook - Tish Hyman:]
You're too bad, baby, I just had to tell you
You're too bad and now I wanna get familiar
You're too bad, oh, gotta get to know ya
You're too bad, yeah, girl, you're too bad
[Dom Kennedy:]
Aye, and I never saw this comin'
Runnin' through twelve-pack magnums, them big rubbers
Now she wit' OPM, we can do big numbers
Her old boyfriend realizin' he did love her
I wake up every mornin' same time, like ten-somethin'
Do some push-ups, couple crunches to "Been Thuggin'"
Hit the studio, [lighter flick], and I spend somethin'
Buy a house first, then I'm a go get my wrist flooded
Cause money get niggas in the club, the list doesn't
I only wanna wear my own clothes like Ben Hundreds
And stay in big casinos, navy chinos
All weed, nigga, no premos, haha yeah
Still watchin' Mo' Better Blues
Stay in, order food, white robe, get her nude (Woo)
From rooms with way better views
If we talkin' 'bout for you, then it ain't no better dude, feel me?
[Hook - Tish Hyman:]
You're too bad, baby, I just had to tell you
You're too bad and now I wanna get familiar
You're too bad, oh, gotta get to know ya
You're too bad, yeah, girl, you're too bad
Writer: Dominic Hunn, John Wesley Groover, MICHAEL RAY COX JR
Copyright: Lyrics © ATLAS MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © ATLAS MUSIC PUBLISHING
Alhambra
Gon' pour this wine in your memory
Yeah, can I smoke this one for Phillip, please?
They say my nigga gone, but I think they lyin', I feel his energy
[Hook:]
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, gon' fill your glass up wit' Hennessy
This might be the last time you see a G
Might go get me a bodyguard
I might smoke the whole ninety yards
And leave the rest at your gravesite
So I never get stage fright
Wit' all these people comin' out for me
Forgive my words and you look out for me
And on the way home, I, I drove by my old school
I rolled me a tight joint, then popped me a cold boo
Gon' pour this wine in your memory
Yeah, can I smoke this one for Phillip, please?
They say my nigga gone, but I think they lyin', I feel his energy
[Hook:]
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, I might just retire and move to Alhambra
F*ck my old lady 'til I need to use Viagra
Big nice cars, they'll make you drive faster
In the long run, what does it really matter?
So let that Remy be your remedy
Find a girl half-Philippine, the other half straight nigga
She got ass, then I ain't trippin'
She could be a white girl
Her momma have doubts in me
Her daughter's always at my show
Forget my words and she look out for me
Ha, and on the way home, I, we stopped off at Santa Cruz
I made me some new friends, then popped me a cold boo
Gon' pour this wine in your memory
Yeah, can I smoke this one for Phillip, please?
They say my nigga gone, but I think they lyin', I feel his energy
I might just retire and move to Alhambra
F*ck my old lady, tell her I need to use Viagra
Big nice cars, they'll help you drive faster
But in the long run, what does it really matter? Uh
Yeah, can I smoke this one for Phillip, please?
They say my nigga gone, but I think they lyin', I feel his energy
[Hook:]
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, gon' fill your glass up wit' Hennessy
This might be the last time you see a G
Might go get me a bodyguard
I might smoke the whole ninety yards
And leave the rest at your gravesite
So I never get stage fright
Wit' all these people comin' out for me
Forgive my words and you look out for me
And on the way home, I, I drove by my old school
I rolled me a tight joint, then popped me a cold boo
Gon' pour this wine in your memory
Yeah, can I smoke this one for Phillip, please?
They say my nigga gone, but I think they lyin', I feel his energy
[Hook:]
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, just remember me
When I'm gone, I might just retire and move to Alhambra
F*ck my old lady 'til I need to use Viagra
Big nice cars, they'll make you drive faster
In the long run, what does it really matter?
So let that Remy be your remedy
Find a girl half-Philippine, the other half straight nigga
She got ass, then I ain't trippin'
She could be a white girl
Her momma have doubts in me
Her daughter's always at my show
Forget my words and she look out for me
Ha, and on the way home, I, we stopped off at Santa Cruz
I made me some new friends, then popped me a cold boo
Gon' pour this wine in your memory
Yeah, can I smoke this one for Phillip, please?
They say my nigga gone, but I think they lyin', I feel his energy
I might just retire and move to Alhambra
F*ck my old lady, tell her I need to use Viagra
Big nice cars, they'll help you drive faster
But in the long run, what does it really matter? Uh
Writer: Dominic Hunn
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Posted In The Club
It's still in rotation, it's still in rotation
I ain't even had a vacation, you know?
It looks like it's us against everybody else now
It don't matter though cause its OPM time now
And I got somethin' I've been wantin' to play for you
I got this, this new Dom Kennedy
And he gon' let y'all know whats been goin' on
'But your last shit dropped in October
And, damn, it's almost January'
Another year in the City of Angels
And I been here the whole time bossed up
Spendin' money on my own campaign, flossed, what?
If they don't know a diamond when they see it, so be it
Tryin' to obtain things people said we couldn't have
Places we couldn't go, now it's all in the past
I just want to keep bein' me and stay authentic
Love, I get a lot from us
So I'm stayin' up every night just to make me happy
Cause if I'm mad, then that make her upset
And that's how I know that she's the one, exactly
[Hook:]
And if I meet her today or I know her and it happens
Guess it's true, she's the one, exactly
And if I meet her tomorrow while I'm posted in the club
Wit' a bottle to the neck, come holler at me
Come holler at me, come holler at me, come holler at me
I'm for real this time, I'm 'bout to change numbers
I kept gettin' calls from some random shit this summer
It's lookin' like, 'Why you think about it?'
You ain't even have to wonder who is gon' be on top
She ridin' me all slow
Talkin' 'bout, 'Them boys been bitin' you on the low'
They like what you about and the city your represent
I said, 'I do too, so let me just do my shit'
If she nice, then she somewhere on my list
Man, I think she Ben Charles
Got a stand-up every night just to make me happy
Cause if I come home late and that make her upset
Then that means she ain't the one, exactly
[Hook:]
And if I meet her today or I know her and it happens
Guess it's true, she's the one, exactly
And if I meet her tomorrow while I'm posted in the club
Wit' a bottle to the neck, come holler at me
Come holler at me, come holler at me, come holler at me
Somethin', I could just hold your waist while we two-step
There's so many sad songs in the world today
Just a little motivation, a little motivation
[Hook x2:]
And if I meet her today or I know her and it happens
Guess it's true, she's the one, exactly
And if I meet her tomorrow while I'm posted in the club
Wit' a bottle to the neck, come holler at me
Come holler at me, come holler at me, come holler at me
Posted in the club
I ain't even had a vacation, you know?
It looks like it's us against everybody else now
It don't matter though cause its OPM time now
And I got somethin' I've been wantin' to play for you
I got this, this new Dom Kennedy
And he gon' let y'all know whats been goin' on
'But your last shit dropped in October
And, damn, it's almost January'
Another year in the City of Angels
And I been here the whole time bossed up
Spendin' money on my own campaign, flossed, what?
If they don't know a diamond when they see it, so be it
Tryin' to obtain things people said we couldn't have
Places we couldn't go, now it's all in the past
I just want to keep bein' me and stay authentic
Love, I get a lot from us
So I'm stayin' up every night just to make me happy
Cause if I'm mad, then that make her upset
And that's how I know that she's the one, exactly
[Hook:]
And if I meet her today or I know her and it happens
Guess it's true, she's the one, exactly
And if I meet her tomorrow while I'm posted in the club
Wit' a bottle to the neck, come holler at me
Come holler at me, come holler at me, come holler at me
I'm for real this time, I'm 'bout to change numbers
I kept gettin' calls from some random shit this summer
It's lookin' like, 'Why you think about it?'
You ain't even have to wonder who is gon' be on top
She ridin' me all slow
Talkin' 'bout, 'Them boys been bitin' you on the low'
They like what you about and the city your represent
I said, 'I do too, so let me just do my shit'
If she nice, then she somewhere on my list
Man, I think she Ben Charles
Got a stand-up every night just to make me happy
Cause if I come home late and that make her upset
Then that means she ain't the one, exactly
[Hook:]
And if I meet her today or I know her and it happens
Guess it's true, she's the one, exactly
And if I meet her tomorrow while I'm posted in the club
Wit' a bottle to the neck, come holler at me
Come holler at me, come holler at me, come holler at me
Somethin', I could just hold your waist while we two-step
There's so many sad songs in the world today
Just a little motivation, a little motivation
[Hook x2:]
And if I meet her today or I know her and it happens
Guess it's true, she's the one, exactly
And if I meet her tomorrow while I'm posted in the club
Wit' a bottle to the neck, come holler at me
Come holler at me, come holler at me, come holler at me
Posted in the club
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher