BAYSIQLY

BAYSIQLY - Success lyrics

rate me

Yesssssss!

Ahahaha...

I feel good, man!

Life, pain

Stress, Success

You could fuck all these hoes till you count these chips

No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living

Life, pain

Stress, Success

You could mack all these broads till you count these chips

No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living

Float like a butterfly, no I ain't the greatest yet

But God damn it I'm following his footsteps

But big shoes to fill

And big homie E told me just get 'em and make moves to kill

And show no mercy, no hundred yards

No rims, just fists, no mask, no jerseys

Four corners with yellow ropes all around

Referees in blue, who's next to go down

Count 1, 2 and homie can't get up

Somebody tore his shit up, his trainer's all fed up

I'm better, I swear I train hard for this moment

Life in the slums got me feeling dry when it's pouring yeah

I water proof rain, I can't feel pain,

I train hard so I'm solid like a steel frame

I'm tryna go from Foot Locker

To the next Mr. Michael Shoemacher, feel me!

Life, pain

Stress, Success

You could fuck all these hoes till you count these chips

No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living

Life, pain

Stress, Success

You could mack all these broads till you count these chips

No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living

Life to the fullest, but this is round two

Just, bob and weave and let it move around you, damn

But naw fuck it, just go for the kill

And punch straight through it, these niggas straight foolish

Thinking life is amusing, party and bullshit

Hoes, games, and liquor, a tough kid to figure, but

I'm highly driven when it comes to bagging dinners

I'd open up a store and let the public shop for me

I'm through with sob stories, I'm chasing high glory

High rise presidential, two nine stories

Up 18 floors, but this is round seven

Eleven foot reach, life's got me roped up but I

Jab and hit, I move and stick

Like what else you got for me you ain't proving shit

I'm a regular dude, and I ain't moving bricks

I ain't pulling tricks, just a bad motherfucker living

Life, pain

Stress, Success

You could fuck all these hoes till you count these chips

No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living

Life, pain

Stress, Success

You could mack all these broads till you count these chips

No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living

It's the final countdown but I ain't Rocky Balboa

I'm just a black nigga who the world doesn't know of

I could open up doors, and free my people

Or wait till the end where there is no sequel, huh

And it's illegal for me to take jabs

And not make something of myself perpetrating death

Niggas walk around like lost souls

But I'm a tough pro, I got a strike like Russ Crowe

Jim Braddock himself, Joe Lewis living life foolish

Naw I'm fighting for belts

And I'm fighting for pride, this is 1988 Mike Tyson

Ain't no way we could tie, yeah

Like the ring indeed, in the streets we bleed

Niggas die the same way as Apollo Creed, damn

Too many shots to the head

Difference is here, these ropes ain't red, holla!

Life, pain

Stress, Success

You could fuck all these hoes till you count these chips

No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living

Life, pain

Stress, Success

You could mack all these broads till you count these chips

No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living

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