Lyrics:
ain't right!
Bitch I'll do you somethin, I ain't wrapped tight!
I roll with bullets like (?) and killas like Versey
Managed by TC and paid by
I'm that nigga with the hair
Singin' 'bout poppin' pills, fuckin' bitches
Living life so trill
Last year I did all the politickin'
This year I'ma
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
the zone (word?)
7 Mile and Foyer where a star was born (yeah)
United we stand, divided we swore (D12)
And hell yeah, I looked in my car (yeah)
Bitch, I
bitches ride Benz's, nigga, no gears
On my way to the lip, bumping on a lid
With a bitch that look like Pia Mia, nigga you should see her
Head like Sia,
year, every year, every year
Cuz every year is our year
Every year, until we need some pallbearers
That's 24/7, 12/52, 365, you bitch ass niggas
Yea,
that seven year itch been and put you in a ditch
And you're gonna blow your brains out
Never saw her cheatin'
All you heard was your own poor heart
I beat yo' ass twice and you still here
Seven years old, think you run this house by yourself?
Nigga, you gon' fear me if you don't fear no one else
here filling the pad up by using the fuel from my bad luck
Seven years of bad luck
Seven years of bad luck
I don’t really know
I don’t really know
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
jumped in the game I was 7 years old,
Drop a model get the money, give a fuck about a ho.
Servin' porcelain to people left a brick up in my coat,
Always
seven years
Seven days, seven weeks, seven years
TM-TM
Betrayed by few and I don't fuck with them
These niggas just make me sick, got me coughing out
South Beach
Khaled on the jet skiis, preaching what you believe in
Everything fast 'cept the food, watch what we eating
If it add a couple years to our
relations
Nice, ATM, I'm Captain-
Captain Quentin Thomas, forty-seven years old, top of his class graduation
Proficient in terminal execution via
to ask
[Hook]
Back on the streets after five and a deuce
Seven years later but still had the juice
My homeboy Ken Gee put me up the track
Told me
This one is called "Tha Shiznit"
You're about to go downtown, bitch
Right here on the station that plays only platinum hits
That's 187.4 on your FM
This one is called "Tha Shiznit"
You're about to go downtown, bitch
Right here on the station that plays only platinum hits
That's 187.4 on your FM
ain't up niggaaa
[Verse 1 - Lil' Flip]
The 4-5 on my lap when I'm in the trap hood
Blueberry by the pound, now where did you get that? (smoked it)
I
Since a year-old, forty-seven year-old scab
Just to hear them words, ear piercing
Like my earlobe stabbed with a needle for an earring
Should I feel
Yeah play times over mutha phuckaz
Spice 1's defiantly in muthafuckin' effect.
You know what I'm saying?
Bringing it to all you bitch ass
on more than a nic' (yeah, bitch)
My Brooklyn bitch in the Garden, while we watchin' the Knicks (yeah-yeah)
Walk your bitch like a pit', dogshit by my hip
gats is popular
We 5-7 droppin' ya
It ain't no limit for my three bitch mafia
[Chorus: x2]
[Mia X]
A certified hairdresser (Mama Mia)
Known
goin' crazy
Catch you by tonight, it's alright, it's alright
Back with my Uncle Snoop
Like it's 2 Live Crew way back with my Uncle Luke
I get MIA
doors
But look here dog, a hoe once told me loc
Bite the hand that feeds you, and you'll wind up broke
Bitch niggas don't deserve to kick it with rich
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