Lyrics:
Picked Out
I Slipped In Even My Baby Stroller Was Tricked Out
Somebody Get Him The Lil Niggas Out Of Control
Put A Lil Bit Of Rum I My Bottle
I
with my infrared
You in danger, Mr. Gangbanger
It ain't cool to take nappy from a stranger
Wit'cha drive-by's it took time to catch ya
But now I
a minute while I freak ya sister,
Push the pista,
Up against her,
No offensta, but this pimpin' mista.
Roll ya fist up, or hold ya Crist up,
Light that
And I'm C-walkin on the motherfuckin concrete
[Intro: Ice Cube]
Yo if you're fucked up, put your cups up
Ice Cube and Snoop Dogg, nigga what's up
one was making noise ain't it a breech of
Trust look in the gutter, unh, never judge yo book by its cover
Word to the muthafucka I, I didn't studder
in me
He put me down back in 1993
And now I grab mic and rock the party
I got Joys and Cheers for Pea by ease
Pea by ease short for family, they
decide
Just put your name on the dotted line
I'm about to sign you up
We can get right, before the night is up
We can get right, right
We can get
I can put on his head
Bullets enters his body by H, yeah
Headshot out thе gate, yeah
Give two hundrеd to get out the way, yeah
Told that lil bitch
a love
You watched me come up from a scrub
Now ya see ya son riding everyday on dubs
But I wish, I could share them times wit' you
It got me pissed,
Nine-trizzay's the yizzear for me to fuck up shit
And motherfucker I got five on the twenty sack
So I ain't holdin nuttin back
Cuz I never hesitate to put
'll probably end up crippled after this, come on
Clap your hands and stomp your feet
Everybody join together
Can you feel the funky beat?
Everywhere you
My hands don't like to be unemployed they like to work
I been told my hands are lil' manish they like to flirt
God knows woman the sexy thing you put
DJ turn me up, ladies, this yo' jam (come on)
I'ma sip Moscato and you 'gon lose them pants
Then I'ma throw this money while you do it with no hands
love you Eaze (I do)
So bro I'm still witchu (E2)
Yo house don't even feel the same
Yo momma she miss you (She do)
Mr. Homewrecker (Huh)
Mr. Paid
surround-by sound
Paint job cracking cause the punch ain't fade
Jamming that brand new 2Low tape
Windows all smokey, blowing coke-laced seed
I'm throwing up
holdin' hands, yeah
Hold up, I don't know what planet I'm on (don't know, don't know)
I'm the king, lil' bitch, watch the throne (watch the throne)
I
Then we off to the room like vroom
Put them fingers in yo' mouth
Girl open up yo blouse
And pull that G-string down south, ooh
Okay shawty
One's
It's Russ the Rush on Fridays
Giving you ballistics on WRMS
Yo, I got a song cause hydraulics
You want the whole take? I said hold there, ha, ha,
around get your guys hit, a ten hut!
I send three-six ol' shit, nigga what?
If ya tired ya tired, if ya snooze ya lose
But you won't wrap up ya
how scared I was)
(I had my fists up, ready, he said, "Muthafucka, put your hands down")
My lyrical verse with so much pain
To some niggas it hurts
I'll give you three seconds to come out wit' your hands up, one, two
This is my own private domicile and I will not be harassed, motherfucker
don't talk no shit.
Look at all this ice and how I poppin' that shit.
Nigga, grease me up, I'll stick you up.
Nigga put your hands up before a fuck you
bout to change now
Back in the game now, all my niggas in the hood now
Better catch up now, shit's bout to change now
Uh, y'all see I'm in
Yeah, see it's that
It's that Blueprint 3 shit right here
It's that T-M 103 shit right here
You ready? You ready Hov'? Let's go! (Hands up
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