Correction Paroles Fukglasshouse par Joell Ortiz

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Paroles

The t**le of the album, you know, it's Gla** House
So you're gonna peek in and see us
More than you've ever seen us
Um, Em is in, you know, he got a hand in it
But in a way where it's just like
Time to show everybody "Shut up, I'm gonna rap"

I'm smoking on this Gla** House pack tonight
R.I.P. Gla** House, rest in procrastination
You was beautiful, I'm so sad I had to do it to you

We started off brothers in this sh*t
You couldn't tell us nothing in this b*t*h (On the code of the streets)
Mixtapes was a hunnid in the clip, first album was a duffel full of bricks, n***a (No bone a piece)
You know, the way we done it was a lick
Give me the money and even though lifе's a b*t*h, she suck a n***a d**k
Had to train you pussies, but you ain't f**kin' with the click
Gun in thе safe is the pole vault
I get it jumpin' with the stick, yeah
The rap game is a bloody sport
Beefin' with your label 'cause your money's short
Unimportant to me, I'm worried about if those st**ches gon come to court
They can f**k the album, just leak it under a dummy corp
I'm just, I'm just tryna escape traffic
Do it through the music but my n***as just ain't rappin' (So I)
Stay traffickin', whoever say it ain't happen is a downlow brother
'Cause them n***as is straight cappin'
I don't give a f**k what you overheard
I called Em, I called Royce, I even called Paul Rosenberg
Tried to put the group back together, that's for the culture, word
N***as brushed it off like it's nothing, that's why I'm so disturbed
What would Crooked I do? Get back to the grind (True)
Bentleys, I'ma buy two
Get 'em out the mud till it look like I'm driving right through the bayou
And guess what I'm playing when I'm riding by you
This, F**k Gla** House (We on some brand new sh*t)
F**k Gla** House (We on some brand new sh*t)
F**k Gla** House (We on some brand new sh*t)
F**k Gla** House (Brand new)

We on that brand new, paint one, flame one, to dismantle
Gla** House, that b*t*h dead
Framed up on my mantle near that pig's head, danglin'
Wait, ain't that that mask you used to wear, Crooked?
Nah, that's an actual carca**, I parked a couple in this melon
Till it squealed like somebody yelling real but they tellin'
It's ill how you n***as claim you kill but you run mouth
I still be in the field with the gloves, you in clubhouse, f**k outta here
Get you the f**k outta here like it's nothing son
I mean, the f**k outta here, like I'm nuttin' on his son (Haha)
And I can't give a f**k what you overheard (Word)
You weak, and listenin' to sheep gon get you rocked to sleep, over herds
I don't play industry, street n***a, chosen words
Radio or shadio, ask one of them Rosenbergs
Peter pay Paul where I'm from, on them broken curves
I ain't underrated, they just overrate the phony herbs (Facts)
F**k the numbers, I just love the art (Word)
'Member, I asked to leave the doc, think I care who runnin' up the charts? (Sh*t)
Line 'em up, let's go bar for bar
Is they gon win? That's a big N-O
Like a Mardi Gras party, walking right by you
Just had a hearty hard moment of what I might do
Feel like I'm Marty Mar
This the unofficial Gla** House sequel
I shoulda saw what it was since the gla** house see-through
This, F**k Gla** House (We on some brand new sh*t)
F**k Gla** House (We on some brand new sh*t)
F**k Gla** House (We on some brand new sh*t)
F**k Gla** House

I challenge any real n***a to answer this question
If you don't wanna see your brother eat, is that your brother?

clip

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