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Going Going Gone
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Mike Capone
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1
I got this mother fucker locked from Los Angeles, to New York City
2
lit the grams and made that 7-27 on that 60
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don't you come up in my zone and don't you come up in my home
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I'm flippin this switch and I'm slipping this clip in and ripping your mother fucking dome got-damn man,
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haters always set it off
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and I'm a be the first dispersing more than words to get this off
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my chest you second guess me, and you best believe I'm swinging
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with that SLOPPY WHITE BOY MUSIC kind of head ringing
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baybayyy I'm fuckin you up with this chronic and singing that
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heyyy heyyy we keepin it movin up on you and bringing that
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lately I'm adding these names to my hit list
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cause people don't dance no more all they do is diss
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but dissin' me is like just downright dogging the whole industry
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them cats in Tenessee they know you, and you aint' no friend to me
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pretend to be, these enemies they need to fucking lay low
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to the curb...them words'll leave you dead in San Diego
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I came close to catching them spokes but it was case-closed
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erase those...collect the intent, and seen his face froze
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and you know that I know just what you knew when he was swimming
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with that shark, and them piranahs him, and his momma sayonara saying...
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Tonight I'm riding, and I aint driving
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and where we're going I don't know
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and I don't care, and I'm not watching
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the road or the signs or the radio the clock
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and the windows up, and the chronic is lit
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and the track I got you movin' to, man this shit is sicker than a mother fucker
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pass it back, and let me let my eyes close
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I'm going...going...gone
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So now I'm back up on the block dodging haters, pop-hookers and cops
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I watch them spots for the knots cause they keep em' in stock
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I'm leavin the ground without a sound no movement tacked to the wall
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and if the dramas long distance fuck making a call
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I'm hitting cross country flights just to get in a fist fight
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with internet pussies now they begging to get right
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cause I aint' playing games
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and I aint' naming names
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aint' letting no lames
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gain a grain of my hard earned fame
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ow mutha fucka I don't really really think you know, I'll do my best to show you
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don't be thinking cause I play this here piano, that I won't throw you
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across the room, and straight the fuck up out that window, that's where you'll go soon
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and buried in the cemetary with your kin-folks, and everybody who knows you
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man it's gotta be a bitch in that ditch in that rut that you're stuck in
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your mind can barely function, once you're brought up in discussion
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that concussion lasts a week, and maybe then so will the stitches
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I'm off into the city with yo bitch, and hitting switches saying...
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Tonight I'm riding, and I aint driving
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and where we're going I don't know
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and I don't care, and I'm not watching
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the road or the signs or the radio the clock
51
and the windows up, and the chronic is lit
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and the track I got you movin' to, man this shit is sicker than a mother fucker
53
pass it back, and let me let my eyes close
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I'm going...going...gone
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Tonight I'm riding, and I aint driving
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and where we're going I don't know
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and I don't care, and I'm not watching
58
the road or the signs or the radio the clock
59
and the windows up, and the chronic is lit
60
and the track I got you movin' to, man this shit is sicker than a mother fucker
61
pass it back, and let me let my eyes close
62
I'm going...going...gone
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going...going...gone...gone
64
Tonight I'm riding, and I aint driving
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and where we're going I don't know
66
and I don't care, and I'm not watching
67
the road or the signs or the radio the clock
68
and the windows up, and the chronic is lit
69
and the track I got you movin' to, man this shit is sicker than a mother fucker
70
pass it back, and let me let my eyes close
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I'm going...going...gone
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Hold up, hey
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for my crackers that be thinkin I'm soft
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I don't, play
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fuck your mom until that ass falls off
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Hold up, hey
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for my crackers who be acting too bold
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Take a, seat
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fuck your momma in the next episode
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Hey...I fuck your mom everday.
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