Lyrics:
run, we gon' come for you
My I.V. is red like thermometers
I fuck on that bitch like a porn star
Hit me up when I'm on tour
I'mma unlock the card if
face
Or brush my teeth
To keep that Gucci on my back
And that Prada on my feet i trap trap 365 24
7 hater I be on my grind
You know I'm 'bout my paper no
leakin'
Somebody best to call the deacon
Any dose is a overdose
Leave your punk-ass dead or a comatose
And if you don't wanna listen
My shit'll crack you
of crews
Death on the phono, my skills are porno
You say "Oh, no," you bitch-ass homo
I bag up waste, electrifyin', I'm prime-time
I slaughter slime, I'm
slaughterhouse
But say my name and you'll get sawed up and shot up, BLAOW
I got a quarter ounce of soft and a lot of crown
And a bitch to wanna' party, grab my
Can get it off by tomorrow
It's wicked when my favorite uncle kick it
Fiends trying to kick the addiction
Of sucking glass dicks
Vivid images go against
fingas up
We hollerin SQAD UP nigga! SQAAAD UP!
You got a problem - tell 'em meat me by mine
You know the heat be by my nuts nigga
Man we can knuckle up
from baggies, triple beams, to jugs for my water
Like a snitch life's a bitch, a world full of drama
Drug paraphernalia being found by my momma
Trauma
that flashlight on my ass, where was you at
Last night when them assholes ran up on my grass?
Rapper slash actor, kiss the crack of my cracker slash
still screaming fuck a label
You can't join me at my table
I don't break bread for a fake ass bitch
Only passing out my revenue
To my homies who move
on
She had another buddy, came by my place
Thick ass bitch, said her name was Grace
She walked in the door wearin' a lace
You shoulda seen that look
it right
Don't make a ass outta yourself, by assumin
My music keeps you movin, what are you provin?
You know that I'm two levels above you baby
Hug
it right
Don't make a ass outta yourself, by assumin
My music keeps you movin, what are you provin?
You know that I'm two levels above you baby
Hug
And throw some Ohlins on that bitch... so it stiffs up
Throw Megan Pipe in the ass... so it shits up
I hit yo block with the top all ripped up
With that
years old, with 3 kids, 7 tattoos
You're bald, but your legs are hairy
I don't want to party wit' you, hmm, hell naw
You need to put some lotion
you in my section, hoe
Say she think that she pregnant, bitch
I told 'er ain't no pregnant bitch
Ain't no Hollywood ass nigga, I'm a project ass nigga
another five years on my hip
These niggas hoes, I know it, come around this way, we bound to show it
I'm in this bitch with killers and I see they face
Whoa
All this money comin' fast, I can't find nowhere to stash it
Lil' mama ass fat, huh, I can't wait to smash it
Chokers on my neck boy, yeah
by me
I can't rap
But when I do it's with a cat in my lap
Age twenty-seven
Turned my amp up to eleven
Rap took, a matchbook made in heaven
Bad look
How you want me then fumble me?
I hope they temporary ass was enough
'Cause apparently four years wasn't enough
So you can kiss my ass goodbye
You
kick it
Baby, my mind is twisted, real shit, ayy
Don't let no pretty bitch kiss you, she might be eatin' ass
You'd be surprised what loyal hoes would do
confusion bitch, it's Craft
Bitches, caution, kiss my ass
Call the closer for the task
Mariano with the raps and the tracks who's next up to bat
It's
Real ass bitch Luuhhh da sweatt of my glands
Real ass biihhh luhhh a ngga dirty drawers
Real ass bitch prolly kiss me on my hands
Real ass bitch
Yeah, bitch
I'ma thoed ass, blowed ass
Dick in the throat ass
Wake up in the morning
Hundred joints rolled ass
Rich muhfucka, wit' no class
Bitch
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