Z-Ro, I Am Kevo - Too Much Time lyrics
[Z-Ro, I Am Kevo - Too Much Time lyrics]
Trying to shine
Just to let y'all take it away
So if you thinking I'm all games
Pull a number sign your name
I'ma make, you a believer today
Y'all know me
Fever nigga say it with authority
And getting cake, is my top priority
Please check the name
I send heat through your arteries
Now get it right
Look bitch ain't a part of me
I never been that cat
To running up from a nigga
I work my H-P with ease
I'ma dump on you nigga
They try to box me in, and keep me contained
You can't out hustle this hustler
So your work is in vein
Kevin is quick, to act a fool
Look go 'head if you want kid
And I'ma leave your forehead retractable
My common sense, is script at all
But, you won't know
Until your frontal lobe hit the
Wall and you fall
You wanna play with a gorilla
I hope you ready
You got some size twelve balls
Bitch I hope they heavy
Look it's swallow ten razors
Or die by my hands
Cause once you duct taped to that chair
You will comply with my plans
Like Everclear
I'm a hundred and once percent with gats
Let the iron recline back
And put a roof in your hat
Call me, Mr come Clap shit
Fake hustlers get fired and retired
For their pissy-poor tactics
Y'all got, the game backwards
Look ain't no Emmys around here
We releasing shots at you bastards
I lead the South in assists
And shots in the paint
How do you plan to stop something
That you know that you can't
Squeezing triggas, is a hobby
But, if I have to go to
The trunk y'all niggas fucked
I'm bout to hide the lobby
My team is full of riders, off in the three
Blowing on trees switching V's
Kid is where you gon find us
Cause my background, is filthy
Look the streets'll see me in a bodybag
Before they see me plead guilty
If you a rider, let me see your guns
But, if you acting and you ain't packing
Playa come up off your funds
Understand, I'm the moniacle
Overheated supplier
Who bust and bury the nine at you
Niggas who think you got it all
I know chemistry, figgas factors and symmetry
Some say I deliberately
Force hustlers to play the wall
We them cats, with Cardier's for wrist bands
Sixes with a kickstand, sitting on fans
The problem solver man
Fever stay strapped with eight at all times
Yes thugs armed on blocks with
Eight at all times, so don't fuck with me
Fake ass Suge Knights, y'all all chumps to me
I came too far to fall off, or go back nigga
I'm in the gun range hitting numbers
On your throwback nigga