Lyrics:
You go Jack that shit all off and Leave my ass in debt
Come and kick it with a real boss
And share my success
The women got the juice
I look at you
dick hard, and you match my grind
Got dammit this is wrong, why yo ass so fine
You be at the crib calling my jack wrong time
You making this hard, cause
She said, "Ain't that that damn
movie by John Wayne?"
Rapping to this bitch with a redneck,a redneck, a chicken ass redneck,
a bubbly bitch with
want to fuck with niggas in khakis
But hoe i bet for the dough
You quick to jack that ass like a 4
So quit fronting on a nigga and lick these and bitch
of been ran it up but you ran off
Now you wanna come around me with ya hands out
By the boop by the bang blowh
Blood stains all on the carpet like I'm
Midwest nigga in the West
Red Corvette speeding down sunset
Ski mask, black Tec pulling through the set
Gang signs and palm trees
Bomb weed and becks
On the plane to South Central
Never get played by the monkey wrench ho
Steady mobbin' I'm just like Robin Hood
Up to no good, so many bitches on my wood
lite
You’re acting all fake right
You’re making up scenarios
But I turn out tougher to bite
Name not jack, but call me jack-o-lantern
Imma scare the shit
in his ass
So hold ya breath,nigga is you down
my pimping is thicker than the shit you talk
Predestined to burn enternaly in hell contrast
by
flavs, god.
Known for sendin' garbage mcs to the graveyard.
I pack a gat, not a slingshot;
Step to this and get an ass-whoopin' like rodney king got.
and 9's
One-time's, sun-shines, and fine-ass bitches
Hawaiian Thai, drive-bys, six-fo's on switches
I was raised in the hood called WHAT-THE-DIF'
Where
can't make a sound
Tie 'em up for the fact that I'm kickin' ass
I got my hand on my gat, and I'm tempted to blast
My name is Eazy, but I go the hard
gettin money ain't worried bout nothing
Fuck Andrew Jack I want Harriet Tubman
Fuck all the small talk we get the bussing
Too many bullets yo ass get
better huddle up,
Counting these hundreds up hundreds up
I live by the code, nigga Money is a Must
She gone pop that ass for a nigga that’s real,
I’m
Yo Lyte, can we swing some of this?
Nah, nah man I can't sing
No? What you mean, no?
Fuck that motherfucking bullshit
Kiss my motherfucking ass
Mix the jack with the coke and I'm okay
Put the zaza in the air let it rotate
Get money, let a broke niggah throw shade
And umma let ya bitch drive
the crest that I live by
I'm the -
Motherfucking pirate bitch
Many know me as the fly ass euro kid
It's the sitch that I live,
I take I don't give,
Matter
fast that you thought I'm on crack
And the way I'm making moves, you would think that I'm Jack
Jack Black with the sauce, I ain't talking A1
I just made
90, I mashed
Bullet holes all in my window from a 12-gauge blast
He was all on my ass, I had to think real fast
Hooked a left, all of a sudden heard
a church
That was visited by stars
But he did have love for
The poor and the theives
And he was in the street
Kind of similar to me, nigga
Mr beck, Mr
these bitches be tripping on me
Used to be they idol saw success and now they switching on me
Brainwashed by amature look at them minions flipping
Bars
and right, bringin' bitches by my place
Jack me off and suck my dick and let me skeet off in her (faaaace~!)
Blackberry start to buzzin', guess her husband
Little boys and girls, they all love me
Come sit on the lap of I-see-E
And let me tell ya a story or two
About a punk-ass nigga I knew
Named
temple, give him headshots
Tryna bust a nigga pimple, well Jack, it ain't all that simple
Every problem ain't solved by spinning in the rental
Rather
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