Lyrics:
mama
Ay, Ay
It's mister sick to your stomach
Mister zip it up quick, distribute it to the public
Mister hit your little sister, give the dick to your
to your rib can
Turn a decent kid into doing a bid
Over stick-ups, nothing come, so screw the consequences
I'll throw this black hoodie on, walk into
the week
I'm talkin' Monday afternoon I was bussin' it down
I ain't makin' this up, I ain't fuckin' around
I'm in the Bally's at the ally on my
hood you can't pop out by yo self because you know yo face ain't good
Tell that freak to send yo lo guess the assignments understood
That boy wanna be
by the jakes/ touching down in the palms, papi meet me by the ocean/ bouta take a D tour, real live, d boy/ be aware of your surroundings , it's some
Like a hotel up in my hood better check in
Never go stress about a hoe bitch I slept it
Back door leave it unlocked bitch I crept in
Put his ass back in
a wrap, haters wrapped off up in my duct tape
What it takes, I been hard since my first mixtape
Fakes get your cheese up, way, way, way, up
To my level
I'm accurate
Crack the pitch
Then pretty soon I have to switch
Scratching the itch with paper cuts on my index
The real riders shoot up blocks
No way, no way you can't burn fire
Your threats you know they just take me higher
Keep trying try as you may
Your negative thoughts get consumed by
his teeth
Knock fore you enter your
Thot in the sheets
Dont even test me the glock
In my reach
Wet his ass up turn a opp
To a creek ill put the pole
Macking and chilling like the wood
Macking and chilling like the wood
Macking and chilling like the wood
I like em sophistirachet from the hood
Let's
started up in extensions
Touch down in the Clearport, now we back in business (back in business)
Pull up in my hood, these niggas be actin' different (for
Of marketing to your fans & take exams at your colleges
Ya'll don't fill up ya'll pages
Ya'll don't play on your stations
Ya'll fly out the country just to fight
Talkin' practice baby
Only thing is
I'm not the shooter
I'm the bullet, bitch
[Verse One: Kanye West]
They say your attitude determines your
ain't got shit
Beast mode, cheat code, no locksmith
Stay up in the hood, whole mouth like hot chips
Pop shit lil' nigga, that's what I'm best at
And I
the biggest part of your ass
into the narrow side, I'm that case you place, nigga
Tie yo' bitch, to the shitter nigga, throw yo' stinkin ass
by the liver nigga,
warm-ups
(Warm-ups)
I'm with the ooters, don't talk much
(Talk much) bro hop out, do walk ups (Brrt)
Whole lot of sticks on this tour bus (Baow)
No, we ain't
from my whip
Got me chilling like a villain
Hundred killers on the strip
Open up Loc! Your big homie let it bounce
By the pound Loc, or let it go
Alter reality like the Matrix
Where you catch bullets or catch some cases
Lace up your Asics and go walk a mile in my shoes
I had to play by the rules
I
Learn to walk a tightrope
Ever seen a rich nigga go broke?
They putting liens on a nigga things
Publicize your demise, and by all means
Your
Learn to walk a tightrope
Ever seen a rich nigga go broke?
They putting liens on a nigga things
Publicize your demise, and by all means
Your family
mamma throw it back
It done got you out the hood ain't no going back
I'm a big boss like I'm Rick Ross my nigga
Slick talk get you Kriss Kross'd my nigga
Get off at 12 (I’m tired)
Call you at 2 (Yo wassup)
Your place by 3 (I’m on my way)
Smoking heavy
Hit up the plug (Serve me up)
Buy the last nug
everyone on my side ran
Jumping all the fences, running through the woods
Everybody scattered to meet back up at the hood
Except for my boy Jeremy, he
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