theman080
05-12-07, 07:29 PM
[...the most official, the, the, most official ]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]
[...the most official, the, the, most official ]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]
I love it when the weather gets beguiled, lets the sun slip through
Hoodies and jeans leave the scene, for B-Ball shorts and shoes
Courts get full, teams wit slick fast breaks and pinpoint passes
Give more classes, to under educated hoopsters, the shyt gets classic
From post-up professors laggin in a full court sprint
To fuelled up kids, with smoothe stuff that move up quick
The chewed up rims, wit no nets to the dangling chains
Annoucin when you get the touch and put your name on a game
The plain white webbing is the main, lust the faded chalk on the floor
That you can barely see in your sprees...fukk the call we arguin more
The fast break cutters that seem to harvest extra oxygen counts
Poppin shots and knockin em down, impossible to stop the shyt now
Big motherfukkas with slow feet, but no need for boxin em out
Just get back on D, swift pedalin, and watch the backdoor screens
The last four teams, would claim the court if we ever allowed it
Plus the fukcas that never play, notes as air-ball accountants
Just chillin and poppin shyt...yea, you know we about it
[...the most official, the, the, most official ]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]
[...the most official, the, the, most official ]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]
I'm greatful when the heat holds its ground, forget the face of the cold
Windows down as we slip the town, see different places unfold
Music burnin the sets, drivin slow, peep the birds on the steps
Abandoned the strands of extra layers for less conservative dress
Some make me thankful for the heat, others I'd just as soon as forget
The hotties smile from the glances, the fatties croon with regret
I see the hard cases wit scarred faces that are chained to they stoop
Ice grillin while I'm blowin smoke, and laughin when I pass in the coupe
The damaged houses fasten a glitter that isnt the last of the litter
The cracked sidewalks offer nostalgia, memories are askin for jitters
And the bad additudes that shatter moods are restrained for a second
No lames get attention, on anyday the flavor is festive
Anything I bumpin in the whip has gotta be a five-mic plus
The volume treats at that way, so do I when I'm linin the clutch
Unwindin a dutch, at a dime's place and sizin are up
Yeah, I love the summertime, no denyin its nuts... :smoker:
[...the most official, the, the, most official ]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]
[...the most official, the, the, most official ]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]
[...the most official, the, the, most official ]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]
I love it when the weather gets beguiled, lets the sun slip through
Hoodies and jeans leave the scene, for B-Ball shorts and shoes
Courts get full, teams wit slick fast breaks and pinpoint passes
Give more classes, to under educated hoopsters, the shyt gets classic
From post-up professors laggin in a full court sprint
To fuelled up kids, with smoothe stuff that move up quick
The chewed up rims, wit no nets to the dangling chains
Annoucin when you get the touch and put your name on a game
The plain white webbing is the main, lust the faded chalk on the floor
That you can barely see in your sprees...fukk the call we arguin more
The fast break cutters that seem to harvest extra oxygen counts
Poppin shots and knockin em down, impossible to stop the shyt now
Big motherfukkas with slow feet, but no need for boxin em out
Just get back on D, swift pedalin, and watch the backdoor screens
The last four teams, would claim the court if we ever allowed it
Plus the fukcas that never play, notes as air-ball accountants
Just chillin and poppin shyt...yea, you know we about it
[...the most official, the, the, most official ]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]
[...the most official, the, the, most official ]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]
I'm greatful when the heat holds its ground, forget the face of the cold
Windows down as we slip the town, see different places unfold
Music burnin the sets, drivin slow, peep the birds on the steps
Abandoned the strands of extra layers for less conservative dress
Some make me thankful for the heat, others I'd just as soon as forget
The hotties smile from the glances, the fatties croon with regret
I see the hard cases wit scarred faces that are chained to they stoop
Ice grillin while I'm blowin smoke, and laughin when I pass in the coupe
The damaged houses fasten a glitter that isnt the last of the litter
The cracked sidewalks offer nostalgia, memories are askin for jitters
And the bad additudes that shatter moods are restrained for a second
No lames get attention, on anyday the flavor is festive
Anything I bumpin in the whip has gotta be a five-mic plus
The volume treats at that way, so do I when I'm linin the clutch
Unwindin a dutch, at a dime's place and sizin are up
Yeah, I love the summertime, no denyin its nuts... :smoker:
[...the most official, the, the, most official ]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]
[...the most official, the, the, most official ]
..................................[the one you fear most, (yep), he's at it again.]