Текст песни Going - Mark Battles , King Los
I'm
dumb
with
the
check
I'm
hoping
y'all
have
fun
with
the
rap,
or
get
assassin'd
Enough
with
compasses,
stuck
in
molasses
Tricking
the
masses,
lucky
ass
bastards
Said
it
once
i
will
say
it
twice
Ask
she
won't
make
it
right
Next
check
on
the
Vegas
flight
MGM
for
the
latest
fight
Fall
in
love
she
won't
stay
the
night
Tell
the
judge
i
pay
the
price
[?]
thugs
ain't
the
crazy
type
You
know
them
are
my
niggas
right?
Born
a
King
we
did
it
proper
Open
eyes
for
the
pasta
Bar
change
a
life
like
Willy
Wonka
Barely
famous
might
go
to
the
Oscars
Wildin'
out
with
my
brother
Los
Few
groupie
chicks
and
some
other
folks
Levitate
serve
one
it's
dope
A
million
verses
with
a
bunch
of
quotes
My
city
backwards
MIA
with
a
pretty
actress
Nah,
the
sex
was
decent
but
the
head
banging
like
Lenny
Kravitz
If
i
say
it
you
know
i
do
it
Stay
a
hunnid
the
flow
the
truest
They
be
running
i
show
and
prove
it
Kill
niggas
on
tracks
like
Tony
Stewart
When
this
drops
the
game
is
finished
Wrap
it
up,
AIDS
convention
All
you
niggas
better
pay
attention
Props
to
God
cause
he
made
me
different
Niggas
think
I'm
a
vegan
cause
I
eat
beats
Who
you
seek
on
the
sneak
peek
Free
for
need
freaks
Beep
Beep
got
a
street
sweep
Leave
me
with
the
cheap
Who
you
tryna
rob?
F.O.D
nigga
fly
or
die
Throwing
three's
with
a
lot
of
pride
Going,
going,
going
They
got
me
going,
going,
going
They
got
me
going,
going,
going
They
got
me
going,
they
got
me
going
Wait
for
it...
My
whole
flow
from
Mars
and
it's
dumb
Your
hoe
roll
with
the
squad
when
it
come
Deep
throat,
nigga
we
drove
cars
in
her
tongue
She
stroke
these
flows,
the
riot
type
Require
height?,
i
acquire
higher
heights
I
fire
ice,
higher
fire,
tried
to
retire
mic's
What,
you
saying
you
getting
lime
light?
I
was
like,
what?
with
a
diet
sprite
Man
i
know
what
this
collar
like
Cause
you
wish
You
was
like
I'm
the,
no
really
like
i
am
life
Hold
up
Hide
your
wife,
grab
your
guns
I
wrap
your
son
in
bars,
i'm
a
rapping
son
of
a
bitch
Bitches
wrapped
around
son,
no
son
of
a
bitch
Bitch
my
daddy
was
the
son
of
a
pimp
I,
stamp
on
your
stomach,
and
butt
on
your
lip
Gun
butt
to
the
front
of
your
shit
I
wanted
to
piss
on
you
while
you
was
knocked
out
But
the
cops
was
coming,
my
cock
was
standing
in
front
of
my
zip
Ughh!
So
i
when
i
see
you
while
i'm
cocking
my
shit
And
i
tell
you
i
got
one
in
the
tit
I
need
to
talk
about
my
gun
on
my
dick
Running
a
hundred
miles
and
running
Coming
for
niggas
who
think
they
wanna
be
something
this
summer
Coming
i
got
that
drummer
drummer
drumming
drumming
pumping
nigga
Hit
that
Ferrari
pump
pump
pump
pump
pump
Tell
'em
niggas
park
it
in
a
pumping
nickle
That's
bread
light,
bread
on
your
head
if
it
ain't
a
red
light,
keep
Going,
going,
going
They
got
me
going,
going,
going
They
got
me
going,
going,
going
They
got
me
going,
they
got
me
going
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