Lyrics:
thirty-six
Ha ha, only if she's 5'3
So your girlfriend rolls a Honda, playin' workout tapes by Fonda
But Fonda ain't got a motor in the back of her Honda
made of red clay
Looking above
By climbing he realized
He could not scape
Looking around
He found a passage
Dug down in the wall
It was so tight, so
A 600 S, now the 6 drop
Everything I ride original no kits on them chops
18 inch Lorenzos, Yokohama tires
When I ride by all them bitches get they
A 600 S, now the 6 drop
Everything I ride original no kits on them chops
18 inch Lorenzos, Yokohama tires
When I ride by all them bitches get they
drives me insane
If you wanna real connection without the sweet sting of pain
Stay away from red-haired women and that cherry champagne
See her dancing
August 18th 1920 the women’s amendment was ratified
Women have been fighting for the legal right to vote since the 1840’s
In 1890 the national
The juggernaut's all in your jugular, you take me for jokes
Live in the basement, church pews and funeral faces
Cartier bracelets for my women friends I'm in Vegas
with a 40
Darth Vader red beam
VVS, I think it's gorgeous
Diamonds reflect in the lean
Counting some blue while I'm adding this green
I had lost
The time to fight blew by one night
As the right wing won and the liberals fucked off
Scream vote again as some unelected
Christofascist
The time to fight blew by one night
As the right wing won and the liberals fucked off
Scream vote again as some unelected
Christofascist
all my niggas
All my guns
All my women
Mayne said im angry
Im non-approachable
Nah i dont have patience
And these niggas emotional
Red cups, clear
thirty-six
Ha ha, only if she's 5'3
So your girlfriend rolls a Honda, playin' workout tapes by Fonda
But Fonda ain't got a motor in the back of her Honda
V.Cruz
I'm like Mike do the moonwalk
All eyes on me like I'm Tupac
I put the cash in a safe lock
Yea yea yea
Sauce stay drippin on my 6's
I got those on my
Paid 90 for my grill and lost it, that's why I ain't smilin' (damn)
You got Sean, you got Hit, you got Grizz, Kash Dolla
Paint you red, throw you in
I feel the Aryan in my blood, it's scarier than a Blood
Been looking for holy water, now I'm praying for a flood
It feel like time passing me by
doot
And beaucoup, beaucoup, I'm cuckoo
I'm a star goin' to war with you clones like Count Dooku
I'm worlds apart from you rappers
Like I walk in
up
And there's been a change in plans
'Cause I love women my mama can't stand
I love little tank tops
Tight fittin' jeans
Blue collar babies who
Bartender-tender-tender-tender-tender
Pour me another cup cup cup cup cup
Get fucked up!
Juggle women, but I'm far from a clown
In doubles and triples, I'm knocking 'em down
So watch
face at
And the MAC 11 tucked in where da 12 gauge at
When I was 13 had 14 grams of ajax
Turned 15 start spitting 16s
Of straight crack
By 17, 18th
perculator
I circulate around the block
Black to get me a six pack a half of Harrow's chicken
A good combination, when I get bubbly I do it in moderation
the cartoons switched to red rooms
The blood is dripping, brains are shot, sever the head with a cut
The shake is going through you and you feel the rumble in
she's not
Could you take it as complement that your choice of friends is something you excel in
I can't figure out women these days, but I never was good
she's in my lap
whole lotta red and my slimey always
chasin the money and countin my racks
slimey always don't covet my chain
I cannot f__k with you. my
for my village, yeah
I do it for my pe (Aye, yes, sir)
And the blood drippin' by the gallons (Grr)
Dolo in the whip, I solo any clique
It's not
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