Lyrics:
somethin' for ya
Get rocked by my midnight Glock
Sniper through sound vocal rival to invade the block
Fuckin' bitch paid the price of a snitch
the right to the left and right back to me
She a stone cold nympho
She a ghetto in all forms and make it look simple
And I know where ya get it from
You
that out
You better cut that out, boy
Befo' it be too, late
A-now-now, when you get high
You know now, you'll get worse
When you get drunk
You
to medicate
Don't want us to meditate
Genes of generations gone by
Calcifying the 3rd eye, I lie
Don't want us to illuminate
Now all my brothers say ya ya ya
Ya
And fill your mind with pleasant thoughts of champagne by ya tub
Rose petals as you walk you know the floor don't need ta see ya
I got that good stroke
get bombarded
Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists
We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber
Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers
thru ya bacc doe
Time and time again
I done seen real niggas played by friends
I done seen gangstas on a come up
Tryna stacc ya funds up
And ya house get
her on the deucey
Put me on hold to go in a store to get loosey
(Come on)
Ayyo mack she need to stop it
Now let me kick some flavor since we're
scuff vicks with lyrical ruff tricks
Tuff kicks, put em at the end like a suffix
You better maxwell and get smart
Cause I'ma flow and kill em and let
I know when they call
They get
Hey how ya doing
Sorry ya can't get through
Why don't you leave your name
And your number
And I'll get back
need a glass of Remy to cock back and blast the semi
Man it's in me, I'm tellin' ya, thuggin' in my bone
Get me wrong, I'ma put one off in ya dome nigga
need a glass of Remy to cock back and blast the semi
Man it's in me, I'm tellin' ya, thuggin' in my bone
Get me wrong, I'ma put one off in ya dome nigga
patch no bridges
When I'm counting, the only time you'll get these digits
Or deposits
Profits
Ain't got time for much I'm too busy in my closet
Ya
pick they phones up
I know suh, hang it up no clicking over
I ain't gon' hold ya'
I put the pain on ya' fader
They didn't ask to cut the yard
Papi with
and
That's the joint
They got the real clear CD in.
She said, "Stars couldn't get me in a car.
I don't know what type of man ya are.
You might know karate
the cream and the cash, by any means I'ma mash
So go get my green out the stash, walk with that beam in ya ass
'Cause I gotta
Hit the block, count that
afraid at our snarls
Thank God we didn't get beat by the Red Hot Karls
I care about culture of my squad
But after praccy I'm a really need to stretch my
cut
And no I can't be out here compromising for ya
I know what you want, I just ain't got it for ya, Ay
I know what you want, I just ain't got it for
her on the deucey
Put me on hold to go in a store to get loosey
(Come on)
Ayyo mack she need to stop it
Now let me kick some flavor since we're
I'm the principle, Fatman Joe why'know
[Parrish Smith]
As you suffer the repercussions, comin through the blaze
bust the crime scene, cause
Freestyle phonetic
Check out the way I set it
Sharp like an ax get waxed or get beheaded
Metaphysical, lyricals
I slay ya with my syllables
I gotta
Go get a dude hot n get stuffed in a shoe box yea
I hop up in the whip n find a whore that pop pills
You put me on wax n you can call it a hot deal
Ya
people
Boy you ain’t know imma
Player I get evil
It’s cool when you do it when
I do it you have a seizure
Block his number then delete him
you"
You say, "Twenty I'm cuffin' you"
Turn off the lights, put on your favorite song
Cut off your phone 'cause you know daddy home
If we make love
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