Lyrics:
had a personal genie
You know I keeps it hip-hop; my niggas flip-flop
Yeah, my Force Ones in tip-top (me) now form a flip flops
Me? I like the limited
on top of your head
I promise I'm not even mad, it's funny
You're makin' me laugh
I'm the Cheatham coach of rap and
I got 'em sprintin' infinite laps
Today
Can I see your body talk
Can I see your
Let me see your body talk
She was blessed from the tip of her head down to her toes
Had an ass with them lips
birds from my crew and make Erykah Badu my "Bag Lady"
You that crazy? Squeeze, I know you ain't spitting shells
Your hand shake so much it shows up
Sittin in the grass with my legs crossed
Sippin on Grapes, yea
Killin beats now we need the Red Cross
Get the red tape, yea
Nappy head brotha now
Pink Gucci slides with them white toes
Pretty gyal lookin right bend down touch your toes
Boujee bitch attitude but she still kind
Got me falling for
off the top
Finger tips causing whirlwinds
I had a booth in the womb
Ate my Siamese twin
Not even half of what I could of been shit
Still twice the man
waitin' on these bags to land (racks)
I'm cool as a fan, you play with my man, and we come and takin' your land
I took YSL from here to the can, and he
peeser, y'all
Rat heads get nothing but cheese, y'all
Or get slapped, put up your dukes
I kick you in your ass with my Nike boots
Some rappers try
at the top
Hey motherfucker, shut your motherfuckin' mouth!
Yeah
"Sure, they're terrific athletes"
on top of a Cadillac
Watch as I move slow mo from the front to the back
Like I'm out on parole and walking a tight rope like a cat
Stay balanced on my toes
with apocalypse (put some money on it)
Kill niggas real easy dog
Ghost in the flesh, fuck a Ouija Board
Drop top Beamer with the BBs on
Gun in your
anything goes
You'd better turn up the heat my feet have got coma toes
From the top of her head to the ball of her heel
She tried not to wander yeah she
known flow, man I got this shit from [?] Cicero
Adamsville, goin home, sellin' him his own phone
A drop top, flip flops, shine as the chrome glow
Tip
From the tops of our heads to the tips of our toes
We scrub that dirt and away it goes.
So, grab your soap and sing along to the bath song.
We're
whip and your girl, Vice City
Pulled up wit' a drop top, with your girl knocked off
Knock, knock, little bitch, your ass a knockoff
Got head from your
I just want the paper
I just want some paper, fuck these bitches keep em far from me
If I got a 50, I'ma put a 10 on top your head
I don't need
the moon, then you're just like me
If you came here to party, raise your drink and nod your head
Tip it all back and let me hear you say yep (yep)
Are
hop
Tipping on my tip toes as I toe tip the tip top
See me when I'm soaring, flying with this drip drop
Whip so sick I cant get it out the pit stop
Gang shit man
Y'all niggas know what the fuck going on man
We ain't never ever ran from nobody man
Niggas goin back to back know what I'm saying
cuz tell em calm down
Let's teach em
Bout the penny stocks
I made a vow to my son
That I shall not flop
I went from bottom of barrel
To the tip top
slip like a bitch if you switch on your mans
Yeah your head it’s gon pop when flex for the gram
Man I give what they want I supply the demand
I’m
twenty-thousand ones (thousand ones)
Yeah, I could pay your rent with a tip (with a tip)
But that pussy gotta pop off the rip (off the rip)
Scumbag, bustin' out
the evening
looks so tight, toes are gleaming
take the tip from the kid
best to know
keep, keep my shit glossed out next to blow
budget ladies shop aholics
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