Lyrics:
'Cause Big L Corleone is too advanced for y'all
Chicks can never walk away 'cause they like the sex
Flamboyant is the label that writes the checks
I'm
One]
Check the new style
my flow is versatile,
sub zero or scorpion, I'm spitting
like reptiles, I'm shutting this game down
you heard it verse for
get a check up
Told that pussy nigga get yo check up
Flame up a jay then i got fuck a set up
All in her mouth got me rippin her neck up
And no i aint
Yo
Mic check (my dick!)
Testing, one, two, fuck
(My dick)
My nuts
My attitude is worse than NWA's was
I'll battle you over stupid shit
Yo
Mic check (my dick!)
Testing, one, two, fuck
(My dick)
My nuts
My attitude is worse than NWA's was
I'll battle you over stupid shit
niggas talking bout
Quick to run yo mouth but you don't wanna bring it to the field
Bet the odds on it if you really with it
Nigga let me know the shit is
Check this out.
Yes.
2wice.
Uh.
(What's crackin?)
Drink-A-Lot, Smoke-A-Lot.
(Haha, is that right?)
And Phats Bossi.
Yes.
All of my
Write a little save-a-hoe speech all these fake-ass hoes
Fake punk-ass bitches
Do you know what i mean?
Fuckin'em up like this, man...
$hort
being upset or vexed
But the same grip on the mic I wrap around
Is what I'll use to punch emcees in the mouth and shut em down
Worked out, lifting
a vest to keep myself in check
Cut me the check, going for the neck, more tools than the rest
Nowhere near as good as I'll ever get
Imagine when I'm 25,
Check it
No regrets, nigga no regards
I know the bar, raise mine, y'all can lower y'alls
What I lack in talent, I normally show in heart
Prolly
the mainstreams distilled
We want mass appeal but we're unoriginal
Cus' we can't reach the crowd by stretching syllables
I put in work, i'm about my craft
I write
to that idea
I got cotton mouth you know how it go
(yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Look i wonder if I fail just how
Many will go to hell
I'm trying to send good
worth bigger than Texas
Don't hit my phone if it ain't 'bout a check
I perform well under pressure
AI numbers like I hoop on the regular
I'm at the top,
Just checkin' my microphone once
As I check your audio
Increase the bass response
Hope n the speakers blow
I got no time to sit and flip
And pop
when no one would
Lying side by side, you’d think you’d know
My hand in yours is how my feelings show
You ask me to say something sweet but I don’t
From all the cheap (nice)
And the pats on on the back
Want plaques in the trash
And plaque in my teeth
From the acid I eat
Spit by basilisk people
you
I hope you put that money aside like you said to
'Cause it's time to collect, you know who to write the check to
Or do you?
Uh, I'm the child
ain’t talking bout nothing better move.
B, u, c, k, you can double that e,
Hello how you doing bitch I’m Buckee and I’m straight up out the East,
Mouth
the fuckin' cafeteria
Fuck all that Hollywood shit!
Let's fucking rap, man
Yo, check it
This that high school lunch time cypher
I might just step in this
nigga, check the inscription
You niggas always think what it is when it isn't
Two ears, one mouth, still you niggas don't listen?
Let me repeat
This
Uh-huh uh huh uh
Gee-gee-geyeah
Baby, watchin, streets
Uh-huh uh huh uh
You don't have to look
Uh-huh uh
The streets is watching
Check it, check
try hail me
No be my power nor by might
But I still de grind
News caster
Mr public speaker
News caster
You don carry wetyn big pass your mouth o
in Hollywood cause I remember when I had 50 Cent, up In Da Club
All my life I knew I was major, I don't need no major
I don't even write rhymes, I
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