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All Madden Video (MV)




Performed By: Boldy James
Featuring: Conductor Williams
Language: English
Length: 2:15
Written by: James Clay Jones II, Denzel Williams




Boldy James - All Madden Lyrics
Official




[ Featuring Conductor Williams ]

Don't wait for her, man
(Conductor, we-)

I stir the pot with that thirty-shot pokin' on my hip like I never heard of SWAT
Another toke, another skid, another murder plot
For liftin' water weights out of shape on that murder route
Prosecutor tellin' my mother, "Might as well give it up"
Hundred-twenty months on a cot, why she not pickin' up?
Only thing I'm hopin' is the feds don't try to pick it up
Caught the flux from all of that dust that we was kickin' up
Still in touch on the outs with the Creatures and them real members
Real apex predator, real laid-back
Every fight I had, it was like a steel cage match
Don't take much to initiate it, quick to straight snap
Niggas gang affiliated with ill face tats
Not me, I'm a lowkey to-myself type
Playin' chess on the unit, me and old-school
Got out, ain't have shit to my name but my legal fee
I think about that shit every blue moon just to keep me free
What else?

No more food stamps and EBT
Tired of Mama workin', gotta blow so I can feed the street
I know they throw dirt on my name, kick me when I'm down
My fam' need me more than ever, gotta stick around
Can't let these niggas trick me off, can't let 'em off Jackson
All that lackadaisical shit'll get you caught lackin'
Stackin' my change while they doin' all that jaw-jackin'
EA Sports, get in the game, we on all Madden, it's Game Time

Everything on my body cost a real bag (for real)
When I see you in the field, you better have your pads (I ain't playin')
And my pockets too stiff, I need to cop a bag (gotta go cop one)
I don't even want your bitch, she ain't even bad (not to me)
Every time I'm in a room, man, these niggas mad (I been peepin' it)
I got thirty-two bullets stuffed in this mag (bah, bah, bah)
I got twenty stuffed in this Burberry plaid (this shit stuffed)
Amiri full of cash (it's Bo Jack)

No more food stamps and EBT
Tired of Mama workin', gotta blow so I can feed the street
I know they throw dirt on my name, kick me when I'm down
My fam' need me more than ever, gotta stick around
Can't let these niggas trick me off, can't let 'em off Jackson
All that lackadaisical shit'll get you caught lackin'
Stackin' my change while they doin' all that jaw-jackin'
EA Sports, get in the game, we on all Madden, it's Game Time
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Don't wait for her, man
(Conductor, we-)

I stir the pot with that thirty-shot pokin' on my hip like I never heard of SWAT
Another toke, another skid, another murder plot
For liftin' water weights out of shape on that murder route
Prosecutor tellin' my mother, "Might as well give it up"
Hundred-twenty months on a cot, why she not pickin' up?
Only thing I'm hopin' is the feds don't try to pick it up
Caught the flux from all of that dust that we was kickin' up
Still in touch on the outs with the Creatures and them real members
Real apex predator, real laid-back
Every fight I had, it was like a steel cage match
Don't take much to initiate it, quick to straight snap
Niggas gang affiliated with ill face tats
Not me, I'm a lowkey to-myself type
Playin' chess on the unit, me and old-school
Got out, ain't have shit to my name but my legal fee
I think about that shit every blue moon just to keep me free
What else?

No more food stamps and EBT
Tired of Mama workin', gotta blow so I can feed the street
I know they throw dirt on my name, kick me when I'm down
My fam' need me more than ever, gotta stick around
Can't let these niggas trick me off, can't let 'em off Jackson
All that lackadaisical shit'll get you caught lackin'
Stackin' my change while they doin' all that jaw-jackin'
EA Sports, get in the game, we on all Madden, it's Game Time

Everything on my body cost a real bag (for real)
When I see you in the field, you better have your pads (I ain't playin')
And my pockets too stiff, I need to cop a bag (gotta go cop one)
I don't even want your bitch, she ain't even bad (not to me)
Every time I'm in a room, man, these niggas mad (I been peepin' it)
I got thirty-two bullets stuffed in this mag (bah, bah, bah)
I got twenty stuffed in this Burberry plaid (this shit stuffed)
Amiri full of cash (it's Bo Jack)

No more food stamps and EBT
Tired of Mama workin', gotta blow so I can feed the street
I know they throw dirt on my name, kick me when I'm down
My fam' need me more than ever, gotta stick around
Can't let these niggas trick me off, can't let 'em off Jackson
All that lackadaisical shit'll get you caught lackin'
Stackin' my change while they doin' all that jaw-jackin'
EA Sports, get in the game, we on all Madden, it's Game Time
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: James Clay Jones II, Denzel Williams
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management

Back to: Boldy James

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