"World Series" as written by and Earl Deramus Colson Baker....
Kells
Who the fuck wanna wit um
We ball like Indians at the World Series 8th inning
I'm gone I'm rolling with Nicole Kidman
I hit the pussy like a bong, fuck show business
We in the jungle with the guerrillas
We in the streets with the 4 wheelers
Don't speak I am no witness
You got beef put a end till you talk like long sentence period
Motherfucker I'm serious
Who's you're favorite rapper, I'm curious?
He ain't living out them words
He ain't used machine gun burst in the trap
'Cause his ass got murked
I'm talking in the 3rd
I'm talking to a stealer and he ain't from the burgh
You talking to a Cleveland motherfucker in the first
So you better not get on my nerves, biatch
I need herb tho, keep me moving like turtle
Keep me seeing this purple
Keep it banging like Kirko
Work something, Twerk something
Bitch fuck me now she worth something
Gas tank on E, it worth nothing
Try to stunt on me the worst coming
Motherfuckers gonna need some plumbing I am the shit
I feel like eating something, feed my stomach,
Give me a rapper, make it 100, fuck give em the hubble telescope, they couldn't see the younging
No, fuck it let em get a lil something,
Bring em to the block do a lil stuntin, that ain't nothing
Ery where I go I'm putting on I ain't bluffing,
Ery where I go I'm putting on, Bitch I run it. Kells

This song got a motherfucker feeling like pac tho, (thug life)
Picture me rolling, picture me rolling, picture me rolling
This song got a motherfucker feeling like pac tho, (thug life)
Picture me rolling, picture me rolling, picture me rolling

Picture me rich
Picture everybody wit a pic of me hangin on the wall like prince
Picture your favorite R&B singer lookin at a picture on her phone Of my big Ol dick
Picture me living like Biggie, the real Frank White I'm the king of my city
Picture all this starting out as a dream
Staring at a picture of Martin Luther King, that's my reaction
Trying to make it happen from rapping.
Trying to avoid me a casket Half of my kin-folk caught up in traffic from trapping
My whole squad will turn to a fraction
'Cause Tony Montana rite up the block from us tho,
It's hard not to get caught up in its at all
Hard not to ball. Sales for yayo to jail then someone goes talk to the law
Please God tell me it ain't true,
tell me name on that paper work ain't you
If you ain't snitching then why is you home,
Stupid decision bitch better get gone, 3 in the morning,
I can't get rest so turn over pick up that 38 special,
You bust in my door, then I bust in your neck hoe 25 stranded on death row

This song got a motherfucker feeling like pac tho, (thug life)
Picture me rolling, picture me rolling, picture me rolling
This song got a motherfucker feeling like pac tho, (thug life)
Picture me rolling, picture me rolling, picture me rolling


Lyrics submitted by Mellow_Harsher

"World Series" as written by Earl Deramus Colson Baker

Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC

Lyrics powered by LyricFind

World Series song meanings
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