Donny Goines - You're All Welcome lyrics

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Donny Goines - You're All Welcome lyrics

[Verse 1] King of New York, You can have that Dig ya grave next to Biggie take a nap nap Little goofy motherf**** in a backpack Paying for all the hashtags, clever marketing that's fact You brought his album get your cash back Let me enlighten you all with a flashback See he's the little freshman that could Jay took his spot a year ago that lesson was good Put the fuel to fire, gave him true desire, dude a writer (true) Dre gave him a shot, only thing to do was fire (cool) See I ain't hatin this a**whippin is love The problem with lil n*ggas is lil n*ggas get buzz Then lil n*ggas get dumb, then lil n*ggas get snuffed He from Compton, I could turn this lil n*gga ta Blood But I'd rather give lil n*gga a hug OG Donny Johnson, lil n*gga is cuz [Verse 2] He gonna get this work, but I'll save it for the 3rd round Ain't gotta finish a verse, I could put him in a hearse now Every lyric's bezerk, Couldn't beat with my worst style "Lawd have mercy" let me take him to church now Turn this Top Dawg to a poodle, I'll school you, boy Q the voodoo Remove you, pull he soul from his abs, rock him out his Jay's (Who you) In my opinion you're boring, ya voice annoying, the point is, was disappointed (The media hyped you up) If you a titan I'm Persues, When I'm writing, exciting, inciting Riots of violence, when I'm rhyming (What) Oh he the king, I get it now, Ok Rodney bless him wit a fitted crown Find his crown, sit him down Would tell him listen but take a look at his picture now Heavy lies the head, you know he rest, little n*gga bow Maybe you don't but that's Shakesphere I guess Kendrick Othello so get the name's clear [Verse 3] Kendrick, Kendrick, I don't want your friendship Don't need a feature, wouldn't pay for a sentence F*** a record deal and I don't want attention All I really want is to teach the people a lesson F*** New York I'll save you the trouble, ain't hating I love you Hoping this spanking'll humble you down Shooting for stars and shooting at stars hand and hand Ampersand, the pressure of press, the demand of fans I ain't trying ta change ya, just hip ya to game To make the transition, from the streets to the fame You are no Biggie, tenth of an Eminem Lower case to Big L, Mini Pun, let's settle it Ya clan far from Wu-Tang and you not a 2Pac Maybe a fourth of Jay Z, ya fans labeled you Dot Subpar to Nasir, outcla**ed by Outkast No UGK, NWA, doubt that You can't even keep up with Slaughterhouse Do me a favor take off your daughter's blouse, little n*gga