Heads Gone Roll Remix Party Records Sammy Adams I'm On
Bees knees Little homie I'm the item 9 Yea, you get slapped like a bitch if you outta line Cross joints so that piff leave me in the sky No shoes, god damn, well I guess its time to fly And we could go in on fuckin' anything You and your boy want techno rap or country fuckin' R&B? Don't compare home boys to me I'm in another genre, way out the gal-lax-y Ya'll could never see me, No Never play my game Never roll them dice then you gon' never learn a thing I, I do my thing for the 6-1-7 mang This the Boston's boy, killin' it is you know ain't nothin change I'm back on the radio but the don't see my chains I might have something trendy but I keep it baggy in my jeans Party records on the scene, bitches scream for 2 hours in a dream The bass drops crack, eat a pill, and be a fiend I'm on
(Chorus) Glitter on the west streets (yea, yea I'm on) Silver over everything (oh, oh I'm on) The rivers all wet (yea yea, I'm on) You're all chrome (I'm on, I'm on)
Glitter on the west streets Silver over everything The rivers all wet You're all chrome
(Verse 2) Oh, here's the part where I come in Hit it and make another damn track again Haters say this is the same ol' me, hi friends Still mad I'm in the spot with Sam Got my chance, locked it in Now girls wanna interlock with him But I just pass 'em, Utah Jazz em, yep John Stockton now Peligrino, bubbly, or vodka, I don't know what I'm gonna get You choose cause I disagree with the prices in this bitch, yea White boy who could tie a tie Got the benefits from the neighborhood to rely Got a dog at home where your homie lies I'm the center for the team, don't be surprised I can't stop trippin over a milli I'm remixing Place so hot every I get finished Paper lights Everybody got the bass and mic up Blow trees in your face you get stuck Blow trees in your face you get stuck Blow trees in your face you get stuck Cause we on