Lyrics:
Freeze my heart locked in a ice box minus 30 degrees
I'm on my sub zero shit I be letting it breeze
Just made my album in a week I did that shit with
on
The Westside nigga
We ballers for real...
[Kurupt]
For real I got it bought you the blue steel
Cowards hit the panic button
Thinkin' that it was what
on
The Westside nigga
We ballers for real...
[Kurupt]
For real I got it bought you the blue steel
Cowards hit the panic button
Thinkin' that it was what
Yo dj hi-tek
Drop the motherfuckin' beat box dog
Bring that next-level shit
Uh, yo, for real
That's what I'm talking about
Check it out
at your catscan
In between albums, I've become a masked man like Batman
And stalk my own rap fans
I'm like a madman fightin a war
Throwin lightning
solid, I ain't touch it
The boys in the hood be gripping that steel
Niggas sipping on lean
Plus they popping them pills
Knowing nothing in life
But get
Homie, you ain't hitting on nothin'
Drop that top when I hit that butt
Pimp so hard it's a full time job
Swear, 12 stacks in my glove box
Bitch niggas,
that's mo money
I don't punch no clock I catch the box you know them loads coming
Loving the Vick out in yo city I shit
Diamonds on hit surrounded by
the team DON'T MISS?"
'Cause we don't
We make the magic, chop the samples, drop the album on the internet
And my loosies are all that and a box of cigarettes
be the best grime artist
Even if I made an album
With a Punjabi hit-squad
Clash me, I'll make you jump like Kris Kross
Make a man know that I'm not
motherfucker
I've held shit you would be crushed by
I've held shit you couldn't even fathom holding
So all the fucking pricks who are gonna say
CB, your album's
known at the time for hits from Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam and they had this massive hit by the Backstreet Boys, All I Have To Give. Every so often I rip him
huh, yeah
Bet I got a number one album
Bet I fall down but overcome every challenge
Bet I hit the Grammies suited up
Get a bag then juice it up by
Yo sex boi drop your fucking beat box oh
Bring that next level shit
Feel the beat
Feel the beat
Wad E in the muddy fucking house check it out
a traffic stop
Bitch you'd rather shoot it
Out or rather box
If there's a confrontation get hit with
A combination like a Master Lock
I told this nigga, I
gon' feel like you got tasered
Hear a blast and see a flash from
Far like a massive star quasar
Laser hit you in your facial
Tissue like acne scar laser
no drive-by's
We walked over
COB bandana tied to the end of the AR
Iller than they are, rhymes so sick
Give 'em the day off
This is the chaos, Nicolas
A different type of sound
While you was stuck inside the box
I had already been around
Inner peace and happiness I'm
Always tryna' find it
And I kinda got
ain't giving thanks
Shoe box was my very first bank (hello)
I might pull up on your court with the tank (no limit!)
If I hit it one time, I'ma pipe
Yeah, ho!
Yeah, ho!
Yeah, ho!
Yeah!
If I hit it one time, I'ma pipe her
If I hit it two times, then I like her
If I fuck three times, I'ma
So get your egg crashed, by my Hellz Wind Staff
While the feature broadcast is splashed to tell the news
Like Katie Chung, how the bullet collapsed
the free-throw line and bang
Now, I bust and crush tracks, nothin' really changed
Except, twelve-inch scars on my body
What I mean by that, I was hit by some
Even if I made an album
With a Punjabi hit-squad
Clash me, I'll make you jump like Kris Kross
Make a man know, that I'm not a nimrod
And if you still
Tired of these rappers, tired of these jackers
I'm tired of these dances by these fuckin' backpackers
And I'm sick of all these hipsters, I'm sick
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