Lyrics:
sayin' it
I'm like the NBA sore thumb on pawn shop tech nine,
Bitch I'm known for jammin'
Smoke Mary, Mary, Mary
Put a mean ass flow on top of bad
So two hours later when the court gets dismissed
Last thing I need is gettin' dissed by these bitches
Out here begging me for some cheddar biscuits
crew
The guy's authorized beat down for the brown
Man to the man, each one so it teach one
Born to terrorize sisters and every brother
One love who
to finally meet"
We moved to the booth reserved for crew especially
And honey-love ended up sitting directly next to me
I'm type polite but now I'm looking
to finally meet"
We moved to the booth reserved for crew especially
And honey-love ended up sitting directly next to me
I'm type polite but now I'm looking
(Baby, you know, you know, you know I need your love)
You cannot find no one better than this
Try to do right by you, but we can't mix, I tried
they reps a little _bigger_
How many bitches want to fuck this _yellow nigga_
You get your whole crew cut like a scissor
Watch this world shake from
do a number two upon your carpet
You have to get down on your knee and begin to clean it
Well in a de white house Mr Reagen a sit
And when me
in Cadillacs
Lettin trees blow, for niggas sniff snow inside the disco
I hold a big pistol, to crack your brain crystal
Cream like Joe Pisco', I fuck
little ass need to be going through
I fall a victim too and I know I shouldn't smoke so much
But I do with the crew
Every day on the average 'bout 4
little ass need to be going through
I fall a victim too and I know I shouldn't smoke so much
But I do with the crew
Every day on the average 'bout 4
high I get, this ain't fly by shit
Too divine am I, for them to define my shit
I'll save you time mother fucker
It's described like this
Beast mode,
gold wires
Your crew tight honestly mine tighter
Your crew tight honestly mine tighter
[x2:]
Stop and roll
Stop drop and roll
Stop and roll
the rock bottom of the asphalt, that's likely your ass fault
My lines are cocaine, the flow is bath salts
I'm a for-sure Don, no one in your circle can box
two-thousand and four
[Chorus]
From here on out it's manslaughter for the masses
And classics courtesy of Mr. Mathers
You bastards heard of me I get
houses with the chandelier
Me and my crew, mad cans of beer
It's copin', live vibe, still eyes open, it's clear
Presidential suites at The Tangier
Bought one all for my crew
Let em all come through
That's just 2 by 2
Noah's arc with the drip
Kinfolk never jump ship
All this sauce no dip
Got the script
claimin that you best?
The S on your chest, better stand for Super-stress
And Leatha Face pressed, next, here to set you
REC! I suggest niggas come
a
A
Uh, niggas be bitches, these niggas be hoes
I'm number one pick like I'm D. Rose
We got them Glock 9's and got them Gen 4's
We beat up his ass, he keep
(music plays in bakground)
(eightball we doin this shit once again
For you fake ass niggaz lay it the fuck down BEYITCH)
Intro/Chorus:
lay it down,
G.I.s dressed with automatic rifles and fully armed for battle, fanned out on maneuvers through the woods, backed up by a dozen Blackhawk attack
Shape up got clipped like a coupon
Looking for a pretty face
With a pair of breast so big
Looking like it need two bras
Hit the crew and it’s me and my
how MUCH YOU BLEED
How MUCH YOU PLEAD, for your life, you was a killer
And all the bitches comin up out that ass you feelin, gettin realer
Now beg
really
Give two fucks (yeah)
Last homie try to hang
We left his ass looped up (yeah)
Broom sweep
Grimy motherfuckers getting spruced up
(Bah, bah) fuck
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