Med, Guilty Simpson - Face Down lyrics

Hallelujah to them true moody
Look got them unruly yours truly
My dollars are made of more choosey
No excuse with the fullies
Ain’t a threat to me
Throw stones get two hoes to
The Os to your coochie, lord
She took to me another groupie on tour
Beat it sore, no rookies with the Woody Award
Black cholo off of soul food, slick as galore
Eva and Jada Spade taste the
Fruit's of the war
The winters, we ain’t letting
Off your neck yet, bet it
So kill a sack off the block like bed it
Started from the crevice, bless, now we up
Black Jetsons, tryin’ become one
With the heavens, uh
Who you testin’, my report card raw
Learn your lesson in the morning
When you see them scars
Oxnard till the dirty Teflon
With the thirty long
Claim street till you meet that tar

Face down, win come around, hit the ground
Face down, nobody make a sound
Face down, still don’t move
But the booth pounds
Money, when I lay them face down
Win come around, hit the ground
Face down, nobody make a sound
Face down, she know the style, ass up
Face down

Say no more, I’m hardcore
This rap shit is like
Chores, and with competition
I’m doing floors attitude, grew up piss poor
Gripping that four when I’m
Leaving the liq store, my hit's pure
Something like Peruvian flakes
I make you snakes hold your breath
Till you’re blue in the face
I’m hammered up in the caddy truck
Two-two-three in the GMC you add it up
If I had a penny for each time I sense envy
I would be a billionaire I
Can feel the stares
Maybe of the escalade, when they get a pair
Until then they talk tough and live in fear
Me and my dog from the Ox
Power moves talking over blocks
You’re mad ‘cause we’re making
What you’re not and never will
Our better skills equal a better deal
That’s every time

Win come around, hit the ground
Face down, nobody make a sound
Face down, still don’t move
But the booth pounds
Money, when I lay them face down
Win come around, hit the ground
Face down, nobody make a sound
Face down, she know the style, ass up
Face down