Lyrics:
God damn it's king tee with the funky bumrush
Smoke a lot of herb, but i never hit the dust
I can wreck them efx cause i ain't got my check baby
This
a nigga feel sumn' on God
I ain't finna make no band I got a real drum
Perky got me bitin' down like it was real gum
Oh they said the opps in the party
what motions? What could it be?
She, she (watchin' you) who, me?
Hon, Velveeta got your cut
(Ain't no lockin' up now)
Give the symmetrics to your
through the hood like Manwich
One thing about it, we gon' get this bread
When you knew shit was real? When they found a rat dead
Right around the corner
man, hustlin' main
Trust that main, yeah, in real life main
Some call it pitchin', some call it grindin'
We call it Quarterbackin'
Yeah, and I ain't
This is Dipset, this is Kay Slay
We still grip techs, and spray AKs
Don't let it breze by, on the eastside
Throw up that E sign, we for the streets
needs (Jesus, Lord)
Sittin' by myself, I'm just thinkin'
About all I've been through, I wish I was dreamin' (Jesus)
Man, it's hard to be an angel
propaganda, rap shit 'bout as real as Santa
Now I'm lyrical all of the sudden
Well last year they claim they ain't understand me
I'm buryin' niggas,
the way yo that’s toxic honey
Taste real good but it leads to death
Pride plus money equals nothing left
4th Chorus: 2x (Poetic Lace)
MONEY AINT KING
right now I can't do it
Got a super thick chick with
Some real big lips
And a swear the little bitch
Suck the dick so good
Gonna hit this scrilla like
keep me good
I do it for the hustler cause I do it for the thugs
I do it for the G's cause the G's show me love
I came in the game 17 real loud only
keep me alive
I still ain't lost my drive baby by your surprise
You ain't gotta fake bitch your life full of lies
RIP my pop imma keep him alive
Fuck it
like Manwich
One thing about it, we gon' get this bread
When you knew shit was real? When they found a rat dead
Right around the corner where us young
(c'mon!)
If you see it in their eye when they try to lie
If you the bullet-hole-in-a-stop-sign kind
Then I'm right there wit'cha, put your drinks up high
For
producer cut hoes off, Dun Deal
I'm real, I'm Quan all I speak is truthful
Come here all I want is you
Pull up , put it on me, baby girl bring it to me
know you whole move by yourself
I hold the entourage into yearn
That's a sign of weakness
You know a real Vic will sit back and look at niggas
That
free from the drama, better go get your ticket
Then come on cause some squares can't lie to kick it
[Mac Mall]
It feels good not to grind no more
Don't
feelin' good by the knock of rhythm
It feels so good when everything going right because,
You got your shit together and your bank rolls tight
It feels so
what's left behind
And what's to come in the same introduction of a king
Just know everything coming can only give birth to the principle that by any means
Can you love a thug? And everybody bangin'
We be crankin' every time it's up
And if I show her off, I know it's good
Nobody real as her
'Cause you know
that dough
She gave it all to me cause I fuck so good
I practice on the girls in my neighborhood
Cause when I'm freaky I rap, I spit a rap to a freak
Out run your wild side before you buy that ring
The house on a hill don't make you a king
Big fancy car get you nowhere real fast
It ain't always
make
Her do what it do
I'm chopping real game, other niggas is goose
And when I pass by the bitch
She gon' know we the truth
We brought base in your
beaters
And the hips won't fit in the L-drop two-seater
But ma' I ain't the type to love ya
I'm a triflin, good for nothin, type a brother
This cute
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