TYS (Talk Yo Shit)

Edge living, bed ridden, fed dipping Bitch don't open your yapper unless some heads given Bread driven in the present like red ribbons Our waves differ get the picture bitch I shred different Close minded tunnel vision, so blinded Stiff arm them with charm more like I'm clotheslining Don't break bread I bake bread the dough's rising I'm the answer like Allen Iverson's co-signing More rhyming, less chilling, more grinding Ignore whining, less pussies, more lions While you all in the store buying her more diamonds I just make her scream out her lungs as if the whores dying Groove fluent, old soul with new music I spew mucus and get gums your boo toothless I'm too ruthless don't like it get use to it I take risks and take shit cuz few do it Uhh fuck you Uhh fuck you Uhh Uhh Uhh fuck you Uhh fuck you Uhh fuck you Uhh Uhh Uhh fuck you A league demon, kill shit, don't need reasons I eat victory, piss greatness, and bleed freedom A freed heathen who acts stupid through each season While we scheming on victory at the team meetings More subtle, less flexing, more humble Endure trouble, less shootings, more rumbles High scorer then play it until the score doubles Two things I'm used to is fake niggas and sore knuckles Ain't faking I ain't there if she ain't naked If you offering hand-outs I ain't taking I hate patience I'm not civil I ain't waiting I'm not America's Idol nigga I'm Clay Aiken A risk taker, bitch breaker, hit maker If niggas scary than be average the shits safer There's three haters and three supporters but six favors I maintained the same pain the shits major Uhh fuck you Uhh fuck you Uhh Uhh Uhh fuck you Uhh fuck you Uhh fuck you Uhh Uhh Uhh fuck you