Lyrics:
on some other shit
Oh, what a job this is
Drankin' yet I'm thinking of another rhyme
Smokin', hoping that some bad news will come some other time
'Cause
But when it comes to me, baby
Did you ever care?
I've never met nobody who talks
About themselves so strong so strong
Oh oh
You got your big red car,
to mug shit
I'd rather be around some niggas I can thug with
Same niggas say they ain't switch up on me
And this Rollie face a big Obama
Hang with
after he won his first big game
Oh, I lost him to a jukebox and a pinball machine
Oh, Amarillo, what you want my baby for?
Oh, Amarillo, no I won't come
The bitch jumped up with no respect
I had to put the big, big bitch in check
I said, "Ya come a little closer and ya will get shot,
I'm sober anyway, I
I'm gonna pull up at
The lights on my Js
Probably be alone when I'm
Standing by the gates
Using gang signs for prayer
Must be blinded by your grace
shells by the sea shore
Payin' for the guests on that big ass boat
Yo kids, I'm takin' no shorts, back and forth like a meter
Play it crazy, ballin' see
and the guys in Kani
All the gang bangers forgot about the drive-by
You gotta get your groove on, before you go get paid
So tip up your cup and throw your
and the guys in Kani
All the gang bangers forgot about the drive-by
You gotta get your groove on before you go get paid
So tip up your cup and throw your
with the sweeper
Cause I'm my brothers keeper
The Grim Reaper holdin' with nothin' but big batters
And big heaters
Blow ya three times leave a mark like
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more drive-bys we do walk-ups
We on top ain't no runner up, come on outside take the chalk up
Look like I just bought the bank all this money, I'm just
gotta big up the underdogs
One day we'll have the upper hand
You know how we go, we run the block
When they ask you, tell 'em I'm the man
I'd rather
smoked up
Gettin' scoped by a hoe with a nigga, I know she tryin' to fuck
But her hommie wanna play G.I. Joe
Hommie you better check yo hoe before yo big
point the stroller, bitch
Big AR sprayer comin', wake up the neighbors
Leave you on the interstate, they think you got ate by 'gators
We ain't
from it
Sent you a picture of her house, like come outside dummy
(Hit-Boy)
Spray on cologne (what's that?)
That's eleven hundred (okay)
The shoe
Peek-a boo, I see you
Aw, what's the matter? You
Don't love me anymore?
Peek-a boo niggas, yeah, I see you
Big Krizz Kaliko, baby
Kali baby, Twiztid,
a dream they was 'tent, they was chalkin' it up
Next day, I see BH borin' it up
I'm still top two when it comes to puttin' in dirty work
Done more than
don't never come fake
I'm 'bout to hit Dove Way, just past Troy's
I'm dippin' by myself, I'm 'bout to call up my boys
I pass up the corner I see some
the boys flip the candy painted low
The city where they blow big killa and stayed blowed
Hustling ass D-boys got the game sewed
Where they sip that paint
mommas son
Maybe it's my style, this the way I come
Or maybe its these ho's
That I've done be's
Maybe is yo sista or yo niece
Or how I rock my boes
ex-girl because she couldn't
Make me cum twice
Same reason I like to gunfight
Squeeze 'til I bleed
So if you coming better come right
Living so foul I'll
that knowledge for
She dissed me in high school, no reason to acknowledge her
Lead by example, I don't fuck round with no followers
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