slow That's what's up yo, the kid with the buck toothed flow Oh, that's meth man south paw I throw my left hand To that hardcore shit that even make the tec jam
to Jamrock, welcome to Jamrock Out in the streets, they call it murder Welcome to Jam down, poor people ah dead at random Political violence, can't done, pure ghost
the best around when it's gonna come back to the bars. they gotta know i'm, i'm so high, ask me boy i won't lie, my bodies stuck on ghost ride, throw
matter badder, baby, givin' you the chills Cool ghoul, ain't a fool, sharpen up the fangs Ghost host, with the most, join a monster jam Everybody scream
Like a fever she'll heat up, burn, and feed her If you can't put up then shut the hell up All you mix masters and cut masters True grandmasters even jam
in pampers, leave my drawers in his hamper When I'm through, you need a brand-new identity I was scoopin' girls before you lost your virginity Your jam
My outlet is full of powerful niggas Electrify ya tie, spark up the lah Keep the room dark, let me fill out my high Then slap box my ghost till one of
really use a nap but im still out whilin with the gang, got diamonds in my chain more colors than the nothern lights, life is a traffic jam but im
voice] My whole life I ain't never give a shit My mentality was *clip cocked into gun* get shot or gimme a gam If the gun ain't jam, I woulda bust you
pussy to the rest Shared a pair of Guess and an Eddie Bauer vest A bitch named Celeste I met her when I was goin' To cash a Def Jam check she had some
you know you telling me 'bout making a song come in the studio, and tell me that I'm making it wrong pissed off 'cause reality is making us strong like the ghost
In a traffic jam with sweaty hands The kids we hype up just to drop These few pretty faces in ugly places The small towns where we would never stop Shitty
A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love It's a jam that'cha love that don't be gettin no airplay A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love Verse 2
, 'Where My Homies?' Leave it to y'all, these niggaz left for dead Last week my man swore he saw Special Ed Rap is like a ghost town, real mystic Like
(8X) (Deitrick Haddon) I go first, gimme that mike Gotta get this party started right Everybody scream to the top of your lungs Holy Ghost gonna have
? Snap my pencil, dislocate my fingers and jam my thumb I ain't gon' write no more, tear my papers Strip clothes if it don't ship gold Take my blessed, Baptist Holy Ghost
It doesn't matter, he's battling a traffic jam A Pacman tryna come up a quarter Joystick, put your score in the corner Running from the ghosts till you
, with a thin sweater I'm far from a "YES" man, I'm a trend setter It's no games, just a Def Jam Vendetta Don't put niggaz in the same sink as me I mean