Lyrics:
to the pumps
Had you floating in the ocean
Now you trashed by the dumps
Nifty fifty gang, I was raised in the slumps
Pockets so fat like it's raised by
commence
Young Bun
Preferred one
Like the left tit
Ain't trippin' off no nigga
Ain't worried bout an enemy
Fat pussy energy
Don't nothing move til I say so
I
and replied, "Why yes
But I prefer the term African American Express"
Brains, power, and muscle, like Dame, Puffy, and Russell
Your boy back on his hustle,
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
fuckin' way
But here I am, workin' in the studio
And your album ain't out because you're movin' slow
By the time you make one I'll be on ten
Hit the studio
I'm a fat boy
With a fat nut
Grab your playing toys
And shove them up your butt
I'm a fat boy
with a fat nut
Get rid of your toys
Cause I don't give
Vogue boys, ho priced, turned this shit up now we hearing no noise
Rouge style low Royce flippin' the page 3 visit the vogue (boys)
Ass so fat I hit from
from home
Im a fool with these andis working on my masters
The greatest of all time im feeling like im clashes
Ill fade ya boy luster oil got him looking
endowed
If you measured the
Strength of my click by the
Length of my dick
We'd be larger than life plus a tenth of an inch
[Chorus]
[Aesop]
Ya boy
Album, es sollte die Szene killen
Keine Swingerparty, doch es kamen wenig Singles
Mein Rap-Style ist vielleicht wirklich sehr kindisch
Doch die Taschen
than your video
Fuck a sadiddy ho
This that rap city flow, hit Flex
Let the city know, shit
By time you hear this
A nigga will be up on Arsenio
And I got
I put the helmet on my mic and tackle MC's
I break backs of fat tracks and freeze
And get up on these, and hit your knees
Trick, can do what you do,
Ladies and gentlemen
This an ode to the B-boys, B-girls
The people out there who do it for the love
And believe me I'm not dissin' anybody out
different, I'm going up passing you by
Looking for better sense and more control of myself I relapse but still yet I try
Never mind that I'ma still get a sack
Well, twirl my turban, man alive!
Here comes Mister Five by Five
He's one of those big fat bouncing boys
Solid avoirdupois!
Mister Five by Five
the clique, I said
Not By The Hair On My Dummy Fat Dick
And if that tummy have a kick, imma abort that shit
Support no kid, .44 to your forehead if
You talking
AdSense
Other rappers wanna say they didn't
Pay for their promotion
But I got papers that say
That shit's a fat fib
Now, I don't know if rappers
Diss me
to the streets
Suburban white boy I don't get into beef
Only thing I come for is the bong and the kief
Went from the attic to the penthouse
Bitches in my bed now,
Motherfuckin' real G's
Stop him in his tracks, show him that I am Ruthless
Yo Dre, what's up
Boy you should have known by now
Stop him in his tracks, show
Motherfuckin' real G's
Stop him in his tracks, show him that I am Ruthless
Yo Dre, what's up
Boy you should have known by now
Stop him in his tracks, show
that's the album
Tryna turn the mansion to a castle
Diamond shine came from Africa
Shine, shine (Africa)
(Young Rich Niggas we some bachelors)
Ooh,
and the boy Mike D
Playa haters, wanna know who you are
When you coming down, like a superstar
If you really wanna know, who it be
It's Fat Pat, and the boy
Same hood, same corner store
But them same old hoes ain't wearing panties no more
I'm on my night job, slim waist with them fat thighs
Never been
I fucked her for free
And now you walk around like somehow you got one up on me
Nigga please, this your brother part
This nigga found Soulja Boy's
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