My World Premiere (Head Nod) Songtext
von Charizma & Peanut Butter Wolf
My World Premiere (Head Nod) Songtext
Fly sporadic, let′s get dramatic
'Cause I′m new with no static, I'm new with no static
'Cause here′s a smirk from a bro that shocks
I put two hands together like twelve o′clock
So applause, 'cause y′all come to see Charizma throw
I got features and I'm funky like a project ho
I′m slammin' girls from Mary to Carey, but I′m not actin' hard
It's not my birthday, but I′m pullin′ cards
Attention, huh, ladies and gentlemen
It's hard for me to swim, so I don′t dive in
'Cause with a threshold rip, you see, I came to brawl
I′ve taken wack MCs, Puma suits and all
Seven mics, seven rhymes, seven styles
You're not fat, it′s like you ran seven miles
I'm sorry, my friend, I left my boxers in a shoebox
A week later, I opened, it was Timberlands Look out or took out, 'cause we ain′t breakin′ a sweat
I'm just rockin′ the boat and y'all are sailors on my deck
And if my pockets was filled with gold and silver
I′d be shy to give it up to see a gold digger
In a b-boy stance, I'm in the smog all alone
When I didn′t have a mic, I rapped on headphones
I'm scopin', you′re hopin′, I'm smokin′, you're tokin′
My girls are like 7-Eleven, always open
So rack the rhymes up and cue the tape
If rappin' was pool, I′d hit the eight-ball in off the break
And I collect dough from what I'm kickin', yo
I′m not in a fraternity, so don′t step to me at a show
So I guess I'll be goin′ with class and class
Charizma and Peter bought a, the hell's up out of here?
Peace
'Cause I′m new with no static, I'm new with no static
'Cause here′s a smirk from a bro that shocks
I put two hands together like twelve o′clock
So applause, 'cause y′all come to see Charizma throw
I got features and I'm funky like a project ho
I′m slammin' girls from Mary to Carey, but I′m not actin' hard
It's not my birthday, but I′m pullin′ cards
Attention, huh, ladies and gentlemen
It's hard for me to swim, so I don′t dive in
'Cause with a threshold rip, you see, I came to brawl
I′ve taken wack MCs, Puma suits and all
Seven mics, seven rhymes, seven styles
You're not fat, it′s like you ran seven miles
I'm sorry, my friend, I left my boxers in a shoebox
A week later, I opened, it was Timberlands Look out or took out, 'cause we ain′t breakin′ a sweat
I'm just rockin′ the boat and y'all are sailors on my deck
And if my pockets was filled with gold and silver
I′d be shy to give it up to see a gold digger
In a b-boy stance, I'm in the smog all alone
When I didn′t have a mic, I rapped on headphones
I'm scopin', you′re hopin′, I'm smokin′, you're tokin′
My girls are like 7-Eleven, always open
So rack the rhymes up and cue the tape
If rappin' was pool, I′d hit the eight-ball in off the break
And I collect dough from what I'm kickin', yo
I′m not in a fraternity, so don′t step to me at a show
So I guess I'll be goin′ with class and class
Charizma and Peter bought a, the hell's up out of here?
Peace
Writer(s): Chris Manak, Charles Hicks Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com