Lyrics:
lead bustin', leavin' niggas head gushin'
You niggas talkin' 'bout guns like you said something
I'll be lacin' 'em, hollow tips, I be wastin' 'em
the first nigga that's catching a case
I stalk through the hood, get a QP, I'm so G
You can not do me, I'm a certified gangsta
And I'm sponsored by Louis
The microphone doctor black Deepak Chopra
I'm a griot that make you wanna peacock your arm
Every heavy dignitary, pay your me top regards
Boy, I'm three optics
could took a try
And kiss that ass goodbye
You be found in your home Nigga
Head blown from that Chrome
Fuck with me, I'm livin' wrong Nigga
[T.L.T
and Malone when we play the mall
I be goin out my way to call
'Cause I love the way your hips make your jeans seem like they too small
Them see-through tops
To hear real ill beats combinated with rhymes
Brought to you by the person at the T-O-P
That be G-O-D, and I be T-I-P
The promoter of the flyness, witness
there tonight
I'm inside your mind, running a finger by your thigh
But that's okay girl, I'm still in your dream world
So lay your head back, and let me
the steak strip and mixed it with the lobster
Sipping Dom Perignon with the fettucine pasta
You aint never seen a hundred bands I can tell by your posture
You
the wizard of the oz
Got them other bitches hattin' talkin' like flies
Say it, then she go fed
And she taste up from her toes to her head
Take her out
Osso, osso
Litty Litty, we so fuckin' lit, yeah
We be, we be, also also
Litty Litty, we so fuckin' lit, yeah
We head to the top, we the shit with our
ratio
All I want is fellatio (That's head)
Hoe sit down, masio
Top 5 and I'm not dead
Drop head in this drop head
I ain't pimping, bih excuse me
as a cane (it came with a 30)
I'm not a rapper, got raised by trappers, they taught me the game (OGs)
Got on them frames by Louis (eat it up), but I wear my
one, they fallin' from the top
Round and round they go
Round and round they go
Look, I say a prayer for my enemies
They cannot slow down what's
and pieces of math your quotes mean nothin
To my knowledge the father never taught frontin
Just some mystery gods tryin to come aboard
But you're dissed by
diamonds like tip
His skin too clear, his bitch gon' stare
So mind your biz, how they find the time for mindin' mine
I find these college chicks for top
ups and kicks the bucket
Just like old man mose
When you get no kicks from loving
And you blow your top instead
It's a fact that you ain't living
Jack,
pipe exhaust you hear the vroom from the back
It got 160 on the dash but it top out way over that
If she tell me her man at home well then her car is
VVS, they swing from my necklace
Drip head to toe, designer I be dressing
All I want is cash can't seem to learn my lesson
Niggas acting funny and that's
I'm all about my tip
Can I fuck you in this whip?
Can I call you my lil' bitch?
Get to squeezin' on your hips?
You got ass, can you strip? You got a man
Seventy-two like as if I was back on the top
Hours of thinkin about how I'ma tip they ass up out the basket
Beligerant glass heads, I'm bashing
No knowledge
On your cheeks, and by the tips of the white waves from which direction they're rolling
To do this, he gave me an exercise
He told me to close my eyes,
and bare bones
Tip toeing in my shell toes
To the avenue of Melrose where Mel rose
I could see her there with her hair low
Whisper in my ear lobe listening
and take hostage
Your whole setup, from the ground up, we lock shit
Blood flood your eye, fuck up your optics
Switch to killer instincts 'fore niggas pop
some more
Love you from the top 'til the tip your toes
Hoe
Open bar so I like to act like all the drinks are on me
Next time, keep your ass rounder that
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