Lyrics:
left wrist high voltage
Freaky baby, yeah, this is yo’ shit
Put your hands on the wall so you don't fall
Bust it open
She said pussy get wet by my voice
and turn the lights out
And let her know her grandchild is a baby, and not a paycheck
Private school, daycare, shit, medical bills I pay that
I love your
of the pit boy with no bracelet
Grand theft auto leave them mother fuckers wasted
Wasted
What's the chance you'll ever make hay?
If life is your table and fate is the wheel
Then let the chips fall where they may
In modern times the modern way
boy, how dare you suck on me?
And I'ma teach you and your boys not to fuck with me
Rolled out the backdoor, lookin' for his bossman
I'll watch him
Feeling my life's 'bout, to wipe out
These feelings I'm feeling be killing me
I pull the mic out, can't strike out
Cause if winning is really my enemy
I
don't let you know what's really going on
Make it look like a lotta stealing going on
Boy them cops is killas in my home
Nigga shot dead in the middle
(Again)
Plus, when (when) you give it up so easy you ain't even foolin' him (him)
If you did it then, then you'd probably- again (again)
Talking out your
back with your mama
You ain't never seen a grinder that grind the way I grind, huh?
Top of my drop still missin' as Osama
(Still breaking boys off,
get ate (brrat)
Had to put a bitch on pause (pause)
Me and my dawgs break laws (laws)
21 Gang 'til I fall (fall)
You could get hit in the jaw (your
And if the world was yours to do over, I know you'd paint a better place to live
Where the colours would swirl and the boys and girls can grow in peace
Drought Boy wizzle Fizzle Bizzle n your area
Wen a nigga got money nd he ballin out
Wat dat Boyz worst fear fear of tha Drought
Wen tha block run
license everything in my wallet, lightest boy with the biggest heart
Nigga play your part or parallel park your ego next to me and violence
Next to me is
hating big in the magazine, and don't even know the boys
I know the ploy, washed up rappers wanna attack people
Run up to the car, pull out the mac
We were young and bound for glory
Itchin' for a fight like you
Bringin' hell and purgatory
To the boys who wore the blue
And I thought I'd seen
and a second to die
It was crazy how it happened
Some niggas rolled by in the Riviera capping
All I could see was a pistol spitting rounds
And the boy was
away
And the names of the heroes, I's made to memorize
With guns in their hands and God on their side
Oh, the First World War, boys, it closed out its
morning
And I'll fall down off my plane
Don't be embarrassed, mother, by your ugly worn-out son
Your ugly worn-out son
So just let me warn you
Mother, you
slang shots
Hit G spots by giving hoes back shots
I'm a young country boy, long socks with flip flops
But I pull up on your block in the 500 Benz drop
Mark Spitz'n
Jersey ooh-wee with the matchin' New Era fitted
White boys say my style is bitchin'
Keepin' coke in the kitchen
Keep a Glock that will
out on that day
Black boy, black coat
Stood around the corner as he passed slit his throat
He didn't fall so he fired
One to the middle of his
groove on
And now you see me jiggy, you puzzled
He ain't sellin' no records
Is he? That nigga gotta hustle
Huh, you bet your guns, by any means
I get my
got it
Fat boy, rich nigga, with a appetite
Count money all night under the candlelight
Spinnin' vinyl, Teddy P, or is it Lionel?
Not a model, but I
man,
and I shouldn't be bothered by people like you."
"Is that all you have for me? One lousy quarter G? Couldn't you lend
me a nickel...?" "Get out
_(cropped).jpg/230px-Amanda_Palmer_at_IFC_2016_-_IMG_0132_(24075269118)_(cropped).jpg "Amanda Palmer & the Grand Theft Orchestra")
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