Lyrics:
these flows from
Somethin' 'bout this ganja makes me wanna jump (jump, jump)
This fat bitch gaspin', graspin' that last puff
Wanted to leave the OG in
weed in my drawer
Got them bomb seeds in my garden
Valley Girl, Dolly Parton
If that shit don’t be poppin’
Got them dope fiends in Compton
Got my niggas
tell yo' nigga
You in here girl, I need pussy on deliver (Yeah)
Room 111 come kick it with a killer
Got weed, got shh, got pills, got liquor
They say
the weed
Now she blazed it (uh) but that ain't all she blew (hey, hey)
Hey, I got knocked off on the bar
In my room got knocked off in the car
Uh, gave
niggas disgrace us, they girlfriends want date us
Got different hoes, I'm pimpin' hoes, you could tell by my pay stubs
My niggas getting right, smoking
crazy fat like the breasts upon your chest
To girls I be referrin', cause ducks get the cum sack
Ridin' upon my jock as if I was on a horseback
Ride up
the club and it's 3 AM
With Murph and Jake so drunk I had to lean on them
Disgusted, I snapped myself up, this ain't no fun
I took a girl by the fat girl
Mix-A-Lot]
Yeah, I'd much rather be behind the mic, then the gat
But the simple fact that my pockets is fat
Means I can't relax, you know what I'm sayin?
Haha
my house
'Fore I grab you by your hair and slap dick to your mouth
Bob Digi, yeah you know who is he
Girl, I fucking slave trade your ass
On a cherry picker
That girls so fat Geoff Capes can't lift her
There's a pot full of squares on the stairs made of glass, made of glass.
I'm traumatised by
doing my thug dizzle
I got a pocket full of money
I'm doing my thug dizzle
Catch me rolling up da weed
I'm doing my thug dizzle
Bitch I'm shining on my
kitchen eating like a fat slob
When she goes to get a Capri Sun
She'll be confused because there won't be none
This one time we smoked an entire 8th of weed
to make a fist.
Everybody die, gon' bury me alive.
Grab life by the horns, put the bullshit aside.
Glock clip full like the moon in the sky.
I'm at the gas
I got the pack of Rough Riders in the back of the Pathfinder
You know the epilogue by James Todd Smith
I get swift with the lyrical gift
Hit you
Yeah baby you know what's up
Trying to get this money girl
I'm a take you out to Las Vegas, put you to work
Show you how to get this real money,
Told me that her favorite songs by the city girls
You know me I only hang with the pretty girls
Short girls, tall girls
Big girls, skinny girls
I could
Girl check your DMs
Hop in the whip, yeah, hop in the benz truck
Love you till the end
No one night stand this shit is forever
I stay by your side,
Like a model type
You aint gotta act girl
I know you aint shy
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah girl
I can tell by the look in your eyes
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
to control this?
I know some folk that live by the levee
That keep on telling me they heard explosions
Same shit happened back in Hurricane Betsy
1965: I ain't
to lean on them
Disgusted, I snapped myself up, this ain't no fun
I took a girl by the fat girl and smoke my one
High as can be, back on the scene, what do
her, a pack of that
Righteously she brought it all back to mac
So I'm a do it back to back, got her fat
Bags are packed, posted by the cafeteria
Eatin
about this girl from
the U hot mamasita, she used to always say poppy
U blow my back out like a fat tire
Until she caught me cheating and set my car
My lil' nigga seventeen, he shootin' shit like Jimmy Butler
This exotic weed, nah, we don't sell OG or fuck with Bubba
Yeah, she thick and she blew
us, then you the ones we laughing at
I see your girl, yeah she be looking bad in fact
But I don't wanna hit it really ‘less the ass is fat (No, no)
Then
.jpg/300px-Hugh_llewelyn_442_442_(6620468847).jpg "Third Rail")
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