Lyrics:
girl, do it butt naked
I'm so wasted, she so wasted shout the bartender
Send twenty more cases
Ha ha ha
This is GPSA (Gucci!)
(Ghetto public
fast
I'm never fucked up to where I can't whoop your ass
You'll neck'll get snapped with bare hands, fuck music
Is he rappin'? It's cool but fools,
got workin is play in the back
Go back to crack
Go back to sprayin the gat
Cause your bullshit rap dont stay on the rack
7th Heaven gonna have
fast
I'm never fucked up to where I can't whoop your ass
You'll neck'll get snapped with bare hands, fuck music
Is he rappin'? It's cool but fools,
Wayne, Hit-Boy, Diddy, bitch
When you hear this in the club
Just put your hands up
Just put your hands up
Just put your hands up
When we up in the club
Aim it at your arteries, pardon me
Parts of me is pyscho
In retrospect my respect was a
Power ranger high note
Tumbling backwards into a karate
Kicking
get your ACT together, scrap
Now who had said Puerto Ricans can't rap?
(huh?) homeboy please, this is Joell Ortiz
When the gun is tucked
Untuck - nigga
Navigator
Steppin on your toes playa, stuffin up your alligators
I'm ghetto, like Newport cigarettes, feel me
Boom bap and slap that ass silly
This is
at the club, we gon' fuck these hoes up
One shot, two shot, three shots, four shots
All I hear is gunshots, this is where the fun stops
Bodies drop, hit
and I see you
Lord, you I see
Sugar, sugar in my mirror
In the mornin'
Instead of seein' me
I see you, babe
I see your face
And inside me
Is
at the club, we gon' fuck these hoes up
One shot, two shot, three shots, four shots
All I hear is gunshots, this is where the fun stops
Bodies drop, hit
Remember me? Seven executions
Remember me? I have no remorse
Remember me? I'm high-powered
Remember me? I drop bombs like Hiroshima
For this
make it sweet
Open sky, glimpse of heaven, take the top off the CJ-7
Let that surfside Santa Ana wind mess up your hair
And let that windshield
Would you like to hit the fat bud
Or perhaps should I run your name through the mud
I mean are you giving up the nappy dugout?
She said no well then
wanna die i call up five
Six little reasons for homicide
This my 66th time that im up in hell
This my 7th time ive been down in heaven
Bro playing jokes
with that
I think you get with this, cause this is where it's at
Hate when broke niggas try to play mediator
Keep your two cents to yourself, you might
If you digging rhyme, then you digging rap
Jimmi's digging this and we be digging that
Yeah
The song is by some groovy cats
If you can dig
To blow this like a trumpet you dumb shit
This is a unusual musical I conducting
You looking at the black Warren Buffett so all critics can duck sic
I
Cause The veil is the flesh the Spirit tearing it off
Man on the 6th day approaching the 7th
Y'all still believe that lie we're disappearing to heaven
[Raekwon the Chef]
So yo yo all I want to do is just tell them cats
On the real, keep your game high man, keep it up
Word up, never stop
To blow this like a trumpet you dumb shit
This is a unusual musical I conducting
You looking at the black Warren Buffett so all critics can duck sic
I
[Raekwon the Chef]
So yo yo all I want to do is just tell them cats
On the real, keep your game high man, keep it up
Word up, never stop
and the golf course
Carry the New York Times, shoot a few holes, blow their minds
You're probably wondering by now
Just what this song is all about
What's
regrets, no abortion, had a son
By the name of Seven
And he's five
By the time I do this mix, he'll probably be six
You do the arithmetic
Me do
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