Lyrics:
and the hoes fuckin
Runnin' crib by myself cause the bros tuckin
Master cards ranked me up, now I'm pro punchin
Throwin' hooks at the site like I'm Mike Tyson
and blow you
In the field every day, movin' around with pro tools
That's my blinky and the fuckin' mask
You know I got the gloves, put my killers on your
fucking bitches in a row
Don't have negative thoughts cause I been born a pro
Got attacked by 4
who were not even my age
Didn't sleep for 2 days
so I
support
While absent men with bag
Is bangin more
Happens to the
Bestest ever pros
A bitch deserves
At best a labrador
Her cat is red like
She's on sex
before you fuckin' croak
Have my girl roll me up a spliffy while I count the dough
Can't nobody do it like ya boy I'm a fuckin pro
This n**** weak he
a real reason
You can't truss 'em cause
They always fuckin' schemin'
Broke treaties with the red man, damn!
Klan disguised as a fam? Fuck Uncle Sam!
Pause
Fuck, watch how I kill 'em
With the funky rhythm
I'll bomb if you don't feel 'em
Piranhas in 'em
Feed my persona as I get deep as Nostradamus
I'm
Start suckin' and suckin' and keep suckin'
And then for hours, I keep fuckin'
Waxin' that ass like a super rated pro
You think I'm braggin'? Well let's
in this bitch that's the pole job
I be fuckin on my bitch when I'm off the perc
With my shotta we gon slide and we gon pop a nerd
Imma have to leave
life
You fuckin' with the wrong click
The 44 just got clicked
I hope you listen to me
(Is, is my sounds that be turnin' niggas into killers)
Cause
Niggas can't do it like I do it though, you know what I'm sayin'?
Just like niggas can't do what you do
Right, right
You know, can't nobody fuck with
strange, but could you
Stop thinkin with ya dick for a change
'Cause you'll get a bullet in your brain, Mr Rich
And about that bitch, don't trust 'em
the other shit that's goin' in my brain
My brother got out of jail, I only know him by name
He did a nickel and a dime in time, probably be stayin' with my
will get costly like private shows at strip clubs
Beating me's a hard task by itself so fuck you,
Cause that's a fantasy like anal sex with Eliza Dushku
God Hates Gucci
And
He don't wear Louie
Don't love guns
Guess who yours truly
Young Tim Duncan
With a bun in the oven
Jimmy and Chrissy
We was kissin
Havana Syndrome
God Hates Gucci
And
He don't wear Louie
Don't love guns
Guess who yours truly
Young Tim Duncan
With a bun in the oven
Jimmy
never lose
See, I can tell by your shoes if you attracted to Bentleys with 22s
You say I confuse you play little tricks with your head
Catching
Many a nights I felt alone
And I was zoning by myself
Many a nights I felt
That I could find
No help from no one else
Many a times while I was
back woods a burnin'
Back in the days I couldn't get one wordin
Now I park valet wit boys outta Cali
Playas on pro's like the mother fuckin valley
If you
back woods a burnin'
Back in the days I couldn't get one wordin
Now I park valet wit boys outta Cali
Playas on pro's like the mother fuckin valley
If you
with Sly, you gon’ be deader than Billy Mays
Do it OxiClean, never leave a fuckin’ trace
All yo’ leaders fake, they all up on the take
My puppets dance
tour and you callin' her road rat
We comin' to pro cat chicks with' mo' fat on yo' back
Feelin' the drillin' after my show cracks
[Chorus]
Call
hos
I'm only hear to restore the game and I'm gonna bring that shit back like some fuckin Rogaine
I played chicken with a train and I never even moved
Don't be fuckin wit my shorty, sippin on her forty
Or puffin on her blunt, 'cause she's no fuckin stunt
True to the game, goes to school for her
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