If you think that you're strong Wanna fight well come on And line up 'Cause livin' up against the wall, yeah Has got us locked up Come on and line up If you got all the stuff And you can't get enough Then line up Instead of just standin' around

Yeah-yeah-eah-eah For real though, it's so wild now This crazy yeah Woke up in the hills this morning Asking myself, how did I get here this morning? Vante Parker in that teal and orange And Russell in that gold and purple Youngest from the Ville,

Stand up, get up Tomorrow can wait Dance all through the night Stuck inside a box You gotta get out! Live your life now come on! Live life given now Sleeping all day

It's a mistake, it's a mistake Jump down the shelters to get away The boys are cockin' up their guns Tell us general, is it party time? If it is can we all come Don't think that we don't know Don't think that we're not trying Don't think we move too slow

And start all over I'm gonna start all over Out of the fire and into the fire again You make me want to forget Here it comes straight out of my mind or worse Another chance to get burned It's so easy You disrupt me Can't complain

Wraaa Everybody get the fuck up Though many have come There will never be another one Wraaa Daddy gonna pop that trunk Yeah, battle ship sunk, throwing dirt rock chunks Sling shot rocks broke no money lumps Looking up too D boys with the pretty dunks

Mash it up now That's exactly what we gonna do Make it good You are so beautiful You are so wonderful And you can make your dreams Make them come true You get through everything And cast a laugh and sing

It's a small world ("It's a...small world...") What goes around, comes around A very small world ("It's a...small world...") At the time you least expect it You get away with it now Soon enough it catches up to you Someway, somehow Nigga you reap what

Rozay, Rozay Rozay Got that, Rozay, Rozay Rozay Bottle up (Boom, boom, detail) Here, comes, them bottles of that Clique I know you're gettin busy, go work it lil' momma Got that Rozay, Rozay Rozay Here, comes them bottles of that Patron Them bottles of

Need a bishop preaching fire To get away with my sins Despise everything I see I come from the ashes of molten hatred Raised by the demons in abodes of the end The reaper's scythe I fall upon to light my path Wrecked by mangled wounds of life I have