Tekst:
Home Grown I Was Right About This

I know I don't amount to anything cause i fill according to your standards <a href="http://www.testimania.com/">Testi Canzoni</a> and i can

I know I don't amount to anything cause i fill according to your standards <a href="http://www.testimania.com/">Testi Canzoni</a> and i

a bitch I ain't my words heavy so I hope them bitches stick like paint and all I really care about is my bank hoe (x3) and all I really care about

lay with me I reminisce how I miss a stare in this space Resort to the lips of a stripper, sprayin' their face Lampin' in a mansion, home alone I hear

home invader Yo, moms you can basically just suck my dick This is a home invasion Yo, pops that shit you talkin' is noise Word you full of shit Check this out, moms, I

happening Roc-a-wear I'm the young black Ralph Lauren Every time I get out they put me right back in The Michael Corleone of the microphone The Michelangelo of flow I

So homie this is your song, I dedicate this to you I love you Doodi The days are cold livin' without you The nights are long, I'm growing older I miss

You know I like my chicken fried A cold beer on a Friday night A pair of jeans that fit just right And the radio up Well, I was raised up Beneath the

mamas, mamas Yea, go like this I'm sorry Ms. Jackson (Ooh, ooo, ooo) I am for real Never meant to make your daughter cry I apologize a trillion times I