Lyrics:
do it, I'mma pour more)
Well if you goin' coupe, I'm goin' four door
Shake that body, party that bod (That's rare nigga!)
Shake that body, party that
ain't no lames in here
It's gang in here get to playing in here
And you'll get slain in here
High as plaines in here
No games we got the banger near
Gang
by the store
Romeo starts his engine
And wipes the blood of the door
And he brodys through the signal
With the radio full blast
Leavin' the boys
and
If you 'buse it you ain't gonna be able to choose it
'Cause you ain't gonna have it further on down the line
Things ain't gonna be so fine
on you!
You think you're better than me?
You think you're man enough? You're NOT!
Open this door now, or I'll knock it down myself!
Open this door
grounded 'til she's dead
Well here he comes around the bend
Slowing down, she's jumping in
Hey mom, you're daughter's gone
And there they go again
season round here but see we keep on clocking
We done got our hands dirty now we resting them down
Radio friendly got the whole listening now
This is for
what they really want
Drive out to the boondocks
And park down by the creek
And where it's George Strait
Real late dancing cheek to cheek
Ain't
For gunnin' down my brother
Leavin' him like a dog
Beneath a car without his knife"
Romeo says," Hey man, gimme a cigarette"
And they all reach
song
It'd be thick to spend a cent on
Iggy Azalea, real name is Kelly
So maybe you're jelly
That Machine Gun's taking the credit
Your space on radio
If I don't fuck with you
I don't mind you knowing I don't fuck with you
Breaking down a key of coke, I ain't never seen a boat
Khaza got circumcised
Driving without a license
Hittin’ your new truck then
Leaving you hiking
They said no, the industry let it go
I cracked the window then hit the
Back door
Big man from the 244,
Roll deep with the boys in a 4 by 4,
You’re dumb if ya come for war,
Whole fleet show up on your front door for sure,
From the washer, to the dryer to the sofa
If you're ready, say you're ready, and you'll see
First one's coming by the time you count to three
One,
Why you over there lookin' at me
While my girl standin' here? (Hit you with the ice grill, you know?)
Why you over there lookin' at me (haha, 'cause
Why you over there lookin' at me
While my girl standin' here? (Hit you with the ice grill, you know?)
Why you over there lookin' at me (haha, 'cause
and a whole lot of show
And with Hank Jr. blarin' on the radio
We had a tank full of gas and we was on our way
We figured we'd go down to New Orleans
We were
behind bars
Beef ain't the Summer Jam for Hot 97
Beef is the cocaine and AIDS epidemic
Beef don't come with a radio edit
Beef is when the judge is
night and shit
In studio today but hey Brother Question
Was on the Westside asleep without a clue when
I hollered down to Crumbs to pick up
my nigga, you can ass it
My accessorize accessories bring
Out my assets
Nigga they sound on acid, tablets
Stussy’s G-Shock with my custom
Pair of 3
Put your hand down youngin' this is not for you
On my "J.O." with beats by Kan-ye yo
My name on the marquee, your name off the payroll
Style fresh,
Easy, back up, turn your radio
Turn your radio off
Watch me now, baby, baby
Uh uh, uh uh
Bitches in my ear, they saying they love me
You don't
Verse Three: RZA
My nigga Chuck, he loved to fuck
Everything exotic bitches down to ugly ducks
Like Nancy, who liked the fancy tickles
so he put
Of his father suddenly her voice was
At the door again "I have
Your size 38 are you decent?"
"Oh if only you knew
" he said to himself without
Thinking he
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