Lyrics:
in my wallet trick
Titans of the clashes, bringing you the classics
Lyrical assassins at their baddest
Titans of the clashes, bringing you
games like I wrote
Got em snitching by they text
And These niggas really whipped
Got my check in advance
For real what they said
Cause I'm catching
Spalding
Trick, it's the infamous Macs from the I
Hit the switch, in the Lac, and go from low-to-high
Drive by, yeah G loves swamp rat and thug dumpin
a smile on my face
And the tricks of the ward
By moving my hips
Come in straight spitting facts
When I rap
Through my nicotine
Stained teeth
Run it back
a journalist, in the paper news
With the troop, came to dance
Money moves, like the Jews
I'm from the north of mtl, where you catch a cold as fast as you get a l
spending all this money on these hoes, not me|Used to hump all week, in my ' computer love by roger trapman|If you see one of my immigrants, they looking
Sac-town, Southside og timer
Gangsta for real, I peel hoes like peelin' oranges
A warning
Don't run up on these crazy Californians
I'm on ya, like
you're startin to piss me off, ha ha ha
Oh yesh y'all, Sugah he got that silky Southern drawl
Every tooth in my mouth, got gold on em' all
I'm 'eal
could touch that bitch
Shoes my Maurie, piss by the month, he cut shock shit
Anything from my hoes when I ask, I get it
In the Cadillac I kick it,
fucking words, now I'm mad
Boy think I need a new girl who can kill me
Something in my head is wrong
Do you feel me? She just want the lifestyle
I let
the rhymes and the cuts and
If I'm not mistaken makin two records mix
And certain deejays had a few dope tricks
If you asked to be on you would be their guest,
the fuck up, you gon listen to her story
Fell asleep broke, had a bag by the morning
Back to back in-calls bitch I’m finna buy a foreign
Had the hoe
"Yo, what's up I'm Tamika Jones from 'Keep it Real' Magazine, and I'm
About to enter the minds of two of the most controversial rappers of
One
When I get back from California I'm trynna hang out with you
I'm trynna fuck around with you
I'm trynna sip brown with you
I'm trynna drown in you
(talking)
This that boy Sinner Tone, better known to y'all
And essay is cocked strong, giving you something
To ride and get high to, I'm chilling in
niggas
throw away glocks with a pocket full of rocks niggas
for leather Smith niggas
Niggas in the street
now add these niggas up
I'm 50 niggas deep
Yo, I
dissapearin' and shit I'm waitin' in the cold, what the
fuck is goin' on, when you get in give me a fuckin' call, alright?
When it comes to sex, I'm similar
Thorough is the general
Although I sign checks
I'm hungrier than criminals
In the booth
I'm harder than facing the truth
Although I'm tight
I get loose
your host Money motherfuckin' Mike
Right outside ICEE Records right here in Chicago
These niggaz is pimpin' at 18 and I'm here to tell you
I'm an eye
on the fence
McMahon like I'm Vince
Run it up, sprints
Big blue hunnit prints
Side by side tints
Through this camera lens
Take that cost no budget
My jump-off
trick my dad had played since I was four
He stands outside my bedroom yelling: "Ho! Ho! Ho!" because
He knows I don't believe in Santa Claus, no way
I
my debut, they don't know how to react now
Crown me, I'm a king just like them boys ballin' in Sac-town
I can't back down now
Murdering instrumentals
I wanna ascend and claim my worth
I don't want to be in the matrix anymore
I'm tryna gain my superpowers and gain what's mines
Walking on this path
grab a cuppa and stick your earplugs in
'cause yeah this one's nasty
So
I'm probably playing this song live right now in some grotty Swindon pub
It
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