Lyrics:
the scag
Beware of the love monster
In the form of a needle
Could turn into your food become an eating disorder and eat you
cnd make you few degrees hotter
Bro certified behind the wheel, them bullets flying, ayy
I know I say this every time, we really live the life of crime
Load it up, dust 'em (ashes),
bitches bad, pretty face and bubble butt
Yeah, that's my problem, I like ratchet bitches, low class, eat it up (yeah, yeah, low class)
I ain't had no
Great!
Do I give a flying duck if I'm applyin'
Love to my rhymin' plus alignin' us?
Alabama's climbin' up, wait, no I don't give a flying duck
Nothing
just rappin in a trailer park
Sendin waves through the booth as if we could mail a spark
And sellin beats to rappers in Gate City for outrageous prices
Come to my crib, come to my bed, that's a fuck room (come on)
I'm gettin' money ever since from the lunchroom (lunchroom)
Tried to get low, no, he
the wheel, them bullets flying
Ayy, I know I say this every time, we really live the life of crime
Load it up, dust 'em (Ashes, ashes), no trust but duck
Casket music
Casket music
Yeah, uh uh
It's killer city, anyone'll run up
You from around here, I ain't gotta tell you to duck
With very little
a tomb
CHIKI CHIKI SLIM KAJMAN
Little bitch snitch
Yeah you're in my bussines
Yeah you better duck low
Yeah you eat me like an insect
I'm on my big shit
this that fly talk, smoke it, you'll get high off
The best thing to happen to the street since the sidewalk
Or the stop sign, or the shots flying
From
fuck
Rather sit at home and eat some shrooms then roll myself a blunt
Bullets flying through the window they can't hit you if you duck
I got me an Emo
up with a freak from out the eastside
Says he only fuck with Harlem niggas flying G5s
That's real baby but my dawg is here, baby
It's all clear like
Come home from work, ain't nothing to eat
You stretched your little dough running home for more
Then you're straight back out the door
Somebody tell
turning blue
I'd force you to but either way Im drifting from you
Im so ready to go
Sunny or snow
High Key or low
Architect Im cutting all these chains
asking me about my love life
To the bread and dough
I don't care about the love right
Numb the highs and lows
From the purple in the dirty sprite
Oh, oh, I
the reasons why, I
I always seem to make you cry, I
Just don't know why
Well could it be
You always running in the streets
Come home from work, ain't
Come home from work, ain't nothing to eat
You stretched your little dough running home for more
Then you're straight back out the door
Somebody tell
was flying to low
You think I'm rocking too quick, I think you're listening to slow
I'm abrupting construction, a pumping assumption
You diss while
stumble in
and you would stop following me around the jungle gym
Now it's an honor and I spell it with the 'H' I stole from heritage
Marry crutch stolen
Whenever I need a crutch, just keep me from falling down
I be tiptoeing lines, just to try and stay in bounds
If you feel I ain't true, then you's
voice from the back seat
The driver lent wearily across and pushed open the back door
I stooped to look inside at the two men there
One besuited,
The fattest links we sport 'em out
Nuts bubbling boosted from extra scouts from Dublin
I could fuck a dozen birds and watch a dozen hatch
I bake my cake from
like a minor
patch out your hizead
slug bloody rized
staying on the low low
hating that's a no no
duck taping trick up
in the trunk you go go
(Burning up) im on now
Looking down from the clouds (Look at me now) flying high
So much struggle in my city, its devistating
But this life is what im livng
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