Hey, momma rock me Rock me momma any way you feel Rock me momma like a south bound train So rock me momma like a wagon wheel Rock me momma like the wind and the rain Heading down south to the land of the pines I'm thumbing my way into North Caroline

We could be We could be heroes Ooh ooh ooh We could be heroes (Oh) We could be (Ooh) Everyday people do Everyday things but I Can’t be one of them

Blood, blood, blood, blood-blood-blood I'm the Doctor's Advocate, nigga Dre shot ya Brought me back from the dead, that's why they call him the doctor The Math gon' drop him And 50 ain't rocking with him no more It's okay, I get it popping Whole club

Morning is coming Morning is on it's way It's revelation day Sweet nightingale Wake up, it's a beautiful day 'Cause I be rocking in my shoes To this sweet reggae groove Ain't nobody gonna spoil my mood Oh nightingale

Go down easy and let me take my time. Roll it over, let's take it from behind. Rock me slow till I lose my mind. It's only love, God knows it ain't no crime. Roll it over. You don't know how much it means to be here in your arms.

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

Gotta find my way back home I've been way too long War Lords, we all Lords, but we your Lords Tryna find home, next stop is the Waldorf Past the racism and fake-ism Type of hate that make you feel worse than a rape victim, raw dogs You other rappers mad

I want to move the town to the clash city rockers You need a little jump of electrical shockers You better leave town if you only want to knock us Nothing stands the pressure of the clash city rockers No one but you and I say the bells of Prince Far-I

(All) all my shit dope 'Cause it's 187 how I killing these hoes T-raw rock my own kick game 8 figure deal figure how I'm court side at clip game Still pop ace king shit I'm with Rozay Black Maybach leather gloves on that OJ OK the day you beating me

In rack city counting up a four I was trapping, getting it by my 'lone Nobody loves me but me No more, no more, no more, no more 14, 14, 14, babe yeah Rocket got them pints for the low Chris got the rocket, he gon' blow Murder what she wrote