Lyrics:
a lie cr*ps drop like autumn, I just got new cuts sorted
Fuck two friends now its awkward, I done fuck three friends thats a foursome
Slide by Brams then
Choppers out when I jump out the car, fresh like a dead body
3-0 in my 4-0, fuck 54 'cause bitch I'm 6-0
Hit from the back, bitch, let my dick go
Like
to the table
You ain't eating if your
Friends ain't eating with
Dickheads, '09 take me back
I lost two grand last week
And didn't make it back
And teachers
Why we quick to do our people wrong¹
We ain't got no self respect somebody play
cretha's song²
cll them killers look like me and they creep along³
gonna be high soon
Now you got your bowl shorty
Nursin' a cheap forty
Lordy was shootin' dice
Point and you win forty
Six be a damn point
Roll
and shove it up your ass
Followed by the "oohs" and "aaahs"
Your foolish pride gonna fuck around and put you on the loosin' side
Who got bodied?
Nigga, you
And even the gringos
Yo, check it one for Charlie Hustle, two for Steady Rock
Three for the forth-coming live future shock
It's five dimensions, six
the third round
Order stitches for these snitches, dead men tell no tales
Diggin' ditches for these niggas, toss 'em in, so well
Drive-by, leave him in
Yeah Yeah Cassidy and I ain't
In no mutha fucking gang but I'm a mutha
Fucking gangster real rap
I'mma G boy get smoke by P boy
Coke by the key boy
swing, boi
Them god damn toys, do you know what I mean
Boi? Now if you warrin' and runnin'
From them three-six niggas
This forty-five gon' give a reason
checked
I got hands like a nail tech
I keep a forty with me on moves
I need my forty acres and a mule
I'm trying to build
That's why I keep a tool
Name ring
still getting package through the air route
And it ain't no safe route, when we on yo shit
Best believe that I'm on my shit
Bro got the chop hold two
him
His brother got killed, so now he keep a tool with him
Live around the corner from his two daughters, no father
That's when the waitress came
fight faster pushing up deluxe Dutchmaster
Enter my potential of script it might flash you,
Wit impact, of a two hundred pound wind,
See you chased by
eyes
That's you on me
If you call imma slide
We both know the vibes
Them other niggas play it corny
Take a chance with a TDF nigga
F6 engines two lanes
cakes
And he ate one, two, three, four
But Jackie wanted more
Five, six, seven, eight, Jackie had another plate
And by the time he got to twenty
Anybody
Professional henchmen with yellow hoppers up under they belt
Broccolis up under they belt
A gang of silent murder beefs up under they belt
"Forty, there go
Written by Kevin Tyler Deane (Deane)
Superheroes ain’t real
[But you mean so much to me. But you mean so…]
Don’t lie to me
Don’t lie to me
Don’t
cents
So now we count by tens
Are you ready to begin
It goes 10, 20 30, 40, 50, 60, 70 80, 90, a dollar
It goes 10, 20, 30 40, 50, 60, 70, 80 90, 2
had a minute to wait
Two hands would dive for a Colt forty-five
One hand would come up too late, too late, too late
"Go for your gun", was the outlaw's
Long black hair with the white rag
40 cent Faygo in a brown bag
Jump Steady, Rude Boy, and Nate The Mack
Chillen by my side 'cause my Posse's stacked
I
gotta school y'all to the game (one, two, one, two), you know what lets talk to em, Lets go!
(Joe Budden)
Them wolves is out nigga
(Ransom)
crack
Six shot by the six-pack, I spit that where you spit at
I send niggas where ya kids at
Don't worry where the kid at nigga, huh
Uptown back in
of here, bitch
Nigga, it's some sipping-ass, pouring up-ass, smoking-ass
Getting high-ass niggas in here, Three 6, UGK, nigga
We putting it down in this
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