Man on the Moon
I came in spittin' gas in the booth
Homie came through with a bag of the ooo
'Bout to hit the mall, get some brand new shoes
Addicts in the hall cookin' grams on a spoon, like...
Ay. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put a man on the moon
Ooo. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put the man on the moon
On my summer '05 shit
I ain't even friends with the people I got high with
Used to write rhymes on the T-Mobile Sidekick
Never 3 stripes, you might catch me in some Flyknit
Ridin' 'round town on the passenger side
No cap and gown, skippin' class to get high
Homie tried to sell me a bag of the white
The first time I ever asked for a dime
Nah, I ain't with that nose candy
No percs, no lean, and no xannies
At the Stove in the Kitchen with the chrome handy
Keep ya nose out my bidness and we both happy
Moonwalkin' in my spacesuit
I got the mothafuckin' juice like a grapefruit
If you want beef, we can make stew
I tried to reach for the moon back in grade school
I came in spittin' gas in the booth
Homie came through with a bag of the ooo
'Bout to hit the mall, get some brand new shoes
Addicts in the hall cookin' grams on a spoon, like...
Ay. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put a man on the moon
Ooo. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put the man on the moon
On my summer '04 shit
Hit the b-ball court, 5 in the morning
Lace up my DaDa's, couldn't afford Jordans
Work on my jump shot, hip-hop was more important
We just chillin' in the cut
Ay, Chauncey Billups in the clutch
Break down a Swisher or a Dutch
Too much malt liquor in my cup
Ran from the cops, didn't spill a drop
He's the man on the block, but he's still a opp
Keep my hand on the Glock, we gon kill 'em off
Treat my raps like the drop, took the ceiling off
Yeah, homie, I'm just reminiscing
Big bro ain't work at KFC, but he was sellin' chickens
We used to smoke that dirt weed, couldn't tell the difference
But it's been like 13 since I felt an interest
I came in spittin' gas in the booth
Homie came through with a bag of the ooo
'Bout to hit the mall, get some brand new shoes
Addicts in the hall cookin' grams on a spoon, like...
Ay. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put a man on the moon
Ooo. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put the man on the moon
On my summer '05 shit
On my summer '04 shit
Homie came through with a bag of the ooo
'Bout to hit the mall, get some brand new shoes
Addicts in the hall cookin' grams on a spoon, like...
Ay. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put a man on the moon
Ooo. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put the man on the moon
On my summer '05 shit
I ain't even friends with the people I got high with
Used to write rhymes on the T-Mobile Sidekick
Never 3 stripes, you might catch me in some Flyknit
Ridin' 'round town on the passenger side
No cap and gown, skippin' class to get high
Homie tried to sell me a bag of the white
The first time I ever asked for a dime
Nah, I ain't with that nose candy
No percs, no lean, and no xannies
At the Stove in the Kitchen with the chrome handy
Keep ya nose out my bidness and we both happy
Moonwalkin' in my spacesuit
I got the mothafuckin' juice like a grapefruit
If you want beef, we can make stew
I tried to reach for the moon back in grade school
I came in spittin' gas in the booth
Homie came through with a bag of the ooo
'Bout to hit the mall, get some brand new shoes
Addicts in the hall cookin' grams on a spoon, like...
Ay. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put a man on the moon
Ooo. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put the man on the moon
On my summer '04 shit
Hit the b-ball court, 5 in the morning
Lace up my DaDa's, couldn't afford Jordans
Work on my jump shot, hip-hop was more important
We just chillin' in the cut
Ay, Chauncey Billups in the clutch
Break down a Swisher or a Dutch
Too much malt liquor in my cup
Ran from the cops, didn't spill a drop
He's the man on the block, but he's still a opp
Keep my hand on the Glock, we gon kill 'em off
Treat my raps like the drop, took the ceiling off
Yeah, homie, I'm just reminiscing
Big bro ain't work at KFC, but he was sellin' chickens
We used to smoke that dirt weed, couldn't tell the difference
But it's been like 13 since I felt an interest
I came in spittin' gas in the booth
Homie came through with a bag of the ooo
'Bout to hit the mall, get some brand new shoes
Addicts in the hall cookin' grams on a spoon, like...
Ay. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put a man on the moon
Ooo. We 'bout to land on the moon
They done fucked around, put the man on the moon
On my summer '05 shit
On my summer '04 shit
Credits
Writer(s): Gerald Owen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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