Lyrics:
I was born on the wrong side of the train-tracks
I was raised with the strap across my back
Lay me on my side or hold me up to the light, yeah
I
Strike you like a Bic head
Your flow sick? My shit dead
Sillier than V.I.C. said
Soulja Boy and Arab
You should see my 11 year old daughter do they
would love to raise some hell for me
School boy so it's no going to jail for me
Gotta keep a strap by the door
Gotta keep a strap by the door
Gotta keep
the pink off the lot
Boy no mileage
I stay with that O boy, like Cam'Ron
I got it
Man, I just made a porno
Record while I'm smashing
Fuck the Arab bitch all
Rutherford B hayes and Gabby Hayes
Marlon Perkins and Carl Perkins
In the dead of night we've seen it all:
Boy George in drag?
Or was Maggie Thatcher RayGun
today
Hong Kong is up for grabs
London is full of Arabs
We could be in Palestine
Overrun by the Chinese line
With the boys from the Mersey
last night
You know that silver-sequined
Arab black bitch
The one that Mama don't like?"
But Mama she sings me moontime melodies
With this great Top 40
gonna find your body hog-tied
No guys saying they neutral but playing both sides
Homicide housing young cartel with dope tides
Your boy ain't playing
Cartier
Pussy boy, you sweet, don't play with me, you know you're gummy bear
Bitch, I paint the street, I guarantee bla bla bla, pourin' this
Bitch, I
today
Hong Kong is up for grabs
London is full of Arabs
We could be in Palestine
Overrun by the Chinese line
With the boys from the Mersey
(ohh-oh-ohh, all the above)
Uhh, uhh (ohh-oh-ohh)
[Beanie Sigel]
Yeah, Mr. Him F'Real is here
Curbside by Atlanta, got a mill' out there
Billionaires Boys
it down
You in the car with your friends, followin my limo around
Puttin a bug in my boy's ear, your "S" is for free
You'll do anything for
Mm oh, yeah
Still gon' keep the straps on me
I ain't with the small talk (Oh)
You know where it's at, you walk up on me
I won't walk off (Oh)
In
work to die
Harness all that energy
And give yourself some time
They got the boy with the Arab strap playing in the back
And the cat looking
the trap" (it's ya boy Yo Gotti)
I have wet dreams 'bout my kitchen, I got trust issues with my bitches
Every gun inside my city, it got switches, I'm not
From the land of Arab
Comes a grand old grub
With a touch of a tasty toum
To give you a real good boom
It's the daddy of all food (Oh boy)
It's for
in my room at a quarter to two"
Well, the cat told the boy
"Come on up to the room and play with my toys honey"
But the Jill set the bait
And she
in my room at a quarter to two"
Well, the cat told the boy
"Come on up to the room and play with my toys honey"
But the Jill set the bait
And she
Shit, fuck, shit
Boy, huh
Tobey Maguire got bit by a spider, but see, me, it was a goat
If you want space, I hope you take your helmet off soon
(BJ on the beat, boy)
Why the temperature say eighty degrees and I'm the only one fucking cold in here?
Maybe 'cause you're the only one with all
at the blood in my piss
Cold as my heart, tend to get better at this
By the time when I wasn't
Just cold from the start
Grabbin' the K with intentions, you bust
Mason for bricks raw
Charlie fucked up the jux, they took no orders little boy, stretch
The cocaine, I go hard when the drought come
When the straps come
they ass so much, we dig 'em up and tell 'em, "Die again"
I can hit the club all by myself long as the strap is in
Niggas told me, all the rappers
seekin' gold
Expose the strap gotta let off the cousin rough and raw
Never fell to my knees for shit cause I demand shit
With this Daz Dillinger
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