Lyrics:
see first the sex
Then it's calls cause the bird's obsessed
Want flowers, cards, and the purses next
Nah, bitch can't get a dollar
Cole on twitter,
go out there play at the game and you better play it fair
Make sure your song get sung
Mama said honey be your own big gun
Mama didn't care when I
Darkest of night
With the moon shining bright
There's a set goin' strong
Lotta things goin' on
The man of the hour
Has an air of great power
Baby, it's the last time
It's the last time I'm 'bout it, 'bout it
Check it with a flashlight
It's the last night you'll get up on it
If you wanna
but Lord he's found a gun.
He pulls it off with no trace of confrontation
They let the ol' man run out in the street
Even though he knows they'll
In the life we live as thugs
Everybody fuckin' wit' us so can't you see
It's hard to be a man
Ridin' wit' my guns in hand
Why explain the game?
gon' start if ya don't dance
I don't care if you lead, but you still be my man
I don't get mad over silly pettiness
I say to hell with it, say oh
to the Porsche's with the wides on it
'Fore you snitches bitch, you better put your lives on it
Get you twisted by the ? with them wires on it
I get my money
get them done
He can zoom on a target
That's ready to expire
When it's murder 1,
This gun's for hire
Yeah
There's a G-man in the city
can't do that to a modern woman
And you're an old fashioned man
She understands the things you're doin'
She's a modern woman
She looks sleek and she
take it with ya"
I look up, it's just me standin' in the mirror
These fuckin' walls must be talkin', 'cause man I can hear 'em
They're sayin', "You
the suit has just bought a new car
From the profit he's made on your dreams
But today you just read that the man was shot dead
By a gun that didn't make
contemplating death with a Gillette
But no man is ever worth the paradise manifest
Gun-clap shell cap,
Got them crawling on they back
Come through with the fu
out her with formalda-
Hide and cyanide, girl, you can try and hide, you can try to scream louder
No need for no gun powder, that only takes all
that ol' eight lane
I passed by a thousand signs
Looking for my own name
I went with nothing
But the thought you'd be there too
Looking for you
couldn't get through
Could you just check the line
Just one more time if you can
I'm pretty sure her phone
Wouldn't be answered by no man
Mr. Telephone Man
and a pit bull in the seat
These pigs'll get bit foolin' with me, quit foolin' with me
Bitch, you're gonna see, no pistol in the seat
Why it always gotta
been to Berlin
Never got to purge my demons
Never been standing by the wall
With the guns shooting over our heads
I see the wall and the guns shooting
came to a screech
Someone yelled, "Nobody gets away with dissin' me"
Across the street a man pulled his nine
Everybody started to run
A shower
at the world through my rearview
Go on, baby, scream to God, he can't hear you
I can feel your heart beatin' fast 'cause it's time to die
We gettin' high,
I'm pretty sure her phone wouldn't be answered by no man"
Mr. Telephone Man
There's something wrong with my line
When I dial my baby's number I get
urgent
I'm the man with the grams who you know you can call, selling donuts just like turkeys
I'm the man with the plan who can score with the ball, I'm
Speak darts, yo, you get paid? Rhymin' about it is the sweet part
You can't be street smart with a cheap heart
5'9", a street nigga with deep feelin'
with a hole in her panties
And I don't give a shit if you can't stand me
'Cause I is what I is, and what I am is like my mammy
And I don't mean
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