Lyrics:
It goes, hella hoes boppin'
Saturday 3 o'clock Camille rose shoppin'
6 p.m. flight for more club hoppin'
Landin' in H-town, damn they got it
dime
Wop got me out the trenches, had murder on my mind (Wop)
And the plug just called, said thirty on the line (uh)
Need a P up in the East and need
lens
Look, check out the sales charts
My record's kickin', I'm breakin' P.D.'s hearts
They banned me from their shows
'Cause they said I'm too hard
My feet pressed down on the grass yeah
I'm looking up and down real fast yeah
I'm gonna find a way to telecast
The future present and past yeah
she gotta get the money
Cause she fuckin' with a (p-pimp like me)
Gotta serve a trick at the after party
Cause I got her body in my mind I'm a playa
list
And i wanted this to be elaborate
And so stratuous
And u just slide by and wise-ey
U want another piss-ey
Is that the way you goin for his-ey
I know
Motherfuckers wanna start shit in every way
That's why I carry my motherfucking gun every single day
Motherfuckers wanna start shit in every way
At words poetic, I'm so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting 'em off my chest,
To let 'em rest unexpressed,
I hate
for my people, yet we don't know why
They cuttin' sistas off welfare, these kids can't eat
And it's the children like thuggish minds turned out by
other's throat
Each other's throat
Each other's throat
Yo, it ain't no joke
We're at each other's throat, ow, ow (hey)
Uh oh, 11 o'clock p
way before I started rappin'
My mamma had a nigga at the age of fifteen
My daddy was sellin' that sack, now he's gots responsibilities
Stayed at me
purse
Now she's wearing all pink expensive just like me
A ride and die on my dick she even rolls my weed
Ya'll lame niggas NPC's by the way you talk
Drew P is one of 107's best
In the crew, hope on my jet!
We flying, all the way to Tibet
Oh wait I forgot, planes can't fly over Tibet
I am very stupid
S-I-M-P
I am a S-I-M-P
Spending money and I still feel empty
Say you love me 'til my pocket's emptied
Why would you do that?
Why would you let me?
Baby
the house by Chuck D's side
Chuck got the flavor, Flav don't hide
P.E. crazy, crazy P.E., makin' crazy Louie's for the shoppin' spree
Ya eatin' dirt 'cause
fit, tracks I'm bench-pressing
The mic chord is an extension of my intestine
Delicate MC's sliced in my delicatessan
My mind state is that of the S-P
Wait, before I lose that number
Somebody in the crew might want to talk to her
Ayo
I see you starin' in my face
You look real sexual
I like the way you
seen a shorty so fly
Pushin' catty plaint with the chrome choppin' by
Throwin' up player wave to my riders on the block
They all show love to my
Toxic
Written by Oliber Rodriguez & Richard c Santana
-Hook-
I got that toxic p***y
The bite dont bark no p***y
He might just eat the p***y
Bon
taught never back down
That's why I act the way I act now, hold the mac down
32 shots, squeeze til there ain't a shell left
Come with my gun smokin', you
charts
Customized cartier sipping martel
With your shawty and my cartel
You can't tell me to stop this
I'm motivated by street
Sorry i'm born for this na
the P, just ain't funky enough for me
See you gots to keep tha P in it, 'cause that's the only way
They gon' really understand it
You know what
making music that's the shit I'm dying for
My team was down by ten I came up and tied the score
I know how to thug it I can make a bucket
Ima eat my bitch
way before I started rappin'
My mamma had a nigga at the age of fifteen
My daddy was sellin' that sack, now he's gots responsibilities
Stayed at me
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