Text:
P O Box Little Boy

When I was a little boy, I've been told a few things, Voices that I believed and I followed, But made me feel so wrong. I believed that I would have

east atlanta 6 where the boy dump bricks but we dont bump the blueprint three nigga box me jus like mesh p cant fuck me like resh p like ali i float like

Verse 1: Yo yall niggaz wit the muscle yall get clapped in the tussle I'mma hustler, not a rapper bitch, rap is my hustle Show a little booby boy know

write rhymes like white lines On the nose tray Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ Not the white boy, but I'm

The Sands on you, lay out blueprint plans on you We Rat Pack niggaz, let Sam tap dance on you Then, I Sinatra shot ya God damn you I put the boy in the box

holler at his boy when he hosts Blind Date it goes spit on CNN and force the war back thru the cable box gremlins(?) are like stage props aimed at latest

him on Nick in the Afternoon He was my favorite thing about Nick Yes, that little popsicle Stick Stickly And he'd sing Write to me Stick Stickly P.O. Box

, them *****z they toy soldiers Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he sober Like I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little

B., Bryan Moier I miss you man rest in peace To Endeara Bishop Rest in peace little lady To Claira Stewart I love you Aunt Ploute To the coffe boy Arden