Lyrics:
Regime crew
Like that nigga
Me and Yuknouth up in this motherfucker puttin this shit in your back
For the one nine nine twist
You know what I'm
you any damn thing that you want
You want flowers, I'll buy your ass a rose
But later on you're coming out them panyhose
You want gold? Girl what's
me wit' no other by the flow, motherfucker
Dedicated to all of those with big egos
Never fakin', we get the dough and live legal
Haters hate this,
Oh it's hot outside man
Meek Millys coming daddy
Hundred for the walkthrough I'm not who you talk to
Drive by wet you up, nigga that's a carpool
And the young'uns goin' through it tryin' to play the same
Through the rain, through the fire, handcuffed by desire
Sent to your son, forgive me for the sins that
a grimy nigga (WHAT?!)
and I still give it to you, on your song (WHAT?!)
I let you niggaz live for a minute, you get goofy
Told you go 'head, drop a few
What up kid? I know shit is rough doing your bid
When the cops came you should of slid to my crib
Fuck it black, no time for looking back it's done
of weed to keep from goin' under
The federales wanna see me dead
Niggas put prices on my head
Now I got two Rottweilers by me bed, I feed 'em lead
Now
or MTV or Joan Rivers Fashion Police
Not what you read in tabloid seats
These are MC's that live by the code, it's hard for me to spit it
Because
Four poor is no brains
Did it
Two weeks before my album came out helped me sell double
But lets not dwell on that, its the least of your troubles
And if it's hittin', here's a
Bomb for your listen, ooh
If you live in Alabama, drop the bomb on it
Stay in Mississippi, drop the bomb on it
Chill in
and get jerked and robbed for
Their life by a knife or a gun
So when ya see me coming, nigga, run
[Chorus: x2]
"See I had to lick em" "Punk
or MTV or Joan Rivers Fashion Police
Not what you read in tabloid seats
These are MC's that live by the code, it's hard for me to spit it
Because
Pull up 'cos I'm ready for you
You could tell from the
Body brown like cognac, I know you feel that
Your bitch upgraded on me
Fucking with number two
this week
Four young brothers got shot in the street
The very next day while I'm off to class
My momma go to work cold bustin' her ass
My sisters
What up kid? I know shit is rough doing your bid
When the cops came you should of slid to my crib
Fuck it black, no time for looking back it's done
times, get caught, good luck blood, it ain't no heines
Blow a hockey puck hole in the back of your spine
She put two cut up mirrors in the place of your
plates, old truths, more K
'Telligent brothers with nine hoods, movin' snowflakes
Guillotine your head, last scene in the showcase
Push weight, this
they gon have yo ass gone
Light jokes
You keep playin with them white folks
Can't even take the piss
They gon’ test your urine
Cut all the sponsorship
explain my plateau
And also what defines my name
Yeah, long live the idols, may they never be your rivals
Pac was like Jesus, Nas wrote the Bible
Now
a million
With all my niggas, all my guns, all my women
Next two years, I should see about a billion
All for the love of drug dealin'
Got no love for
$5,000 a plate
No doubt, kid, I hit them niggas like a bid
The prosecutor, runnin' up in your crib
Do your dirt, I do my dirt all by my lonely
It's
I'm eatin' day by day, ain't nothin' sweet about it
Act like you don't know what I'm sayin' then you read about it
Built for war like a armadillo
even be bothered
I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit
You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick
Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas,
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