Woorden:
Room Eleven

you are getting money nigger We ain't seen nothing Problem with the squad I am the first one toughing Like my nigger .. I keep it one hundred To eleven

Hot motel Stuffy inside I know well These eleven walls Hot black tar I tan my legs Rest my heart And dream of the city Magazine And diet Coke I'm not

on and on" checkin checkin out Mr Askey's song - cos he's late sevens' captain-on-the-mic but blows the horn so fierce that the room ignite it's like

I got two turntables and a microphone) {Take me home with my elevator bones That was a good drum break} Pick yourself up, off the side of the road With your elevator

clones, therefore It's my job to describe the loudness, the habitat of rap survival kit Artistic skin abrasion, so when 'em fadin' my worldly reflections It's magnified to new levels of elevation

quickly rolled up, bulldozed through the livin' room Hopped out of the car and started to blow up Buck, buck and a kabloom, me blew All them bodies all over the room

we evaporate into the breeze we are nothing, we'll be something welcome to the desert of my soul you can stay if you like there's room for one more there's room

call shots I call audibles Jacob the jeweler, Bubbles Loraine Schwartz sorta dude It's big ballin' baby when I'm caught in u I'm talking spa bags and fly pads and rooms

fought for ours Caught in ghetto tragedy I talk to my aunt named Mattie Lee And recognize the importance of family Hand me a joint, good music and room