Mouthpiece

I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece Thug wit' me who got that indo nigga mug wit' me Stick yo' pistol out the window have a few drinks wit' me Nigga get fired up Out of state dummy license plate faulty ass tags Trunk full of out door weed back seat full of garbage bags Lookin' fo' that money train lookin' fo' that treasure Like to fuck a lot mix the business wit' the pleasure What's up you timer when you gone resign Put a soul food restaurant in yo' mamas name and own your own clothing line Ain't no tellin' That's what Harold told Melvin back in the days of penny loafs When Teddy Pendegrass was in the blue notes A big lip street nigga was in the makin' a ferocious dangerous dude A little microscopic seed maranatin' in the fallopian tube Ready to face the world ready to say my speech Ready to come out early feet first nigga breeched Uno uno dos tres quattro Drinkin' malt liquor out the baby bottle Five five six six seven eight Move from the crest side to the hillside Go ahead ask the vpd Betcha they tell you about me Betcha they tell you they been investigatin' my ass since '83 Betcha they say dude real, Betcha they say I don't know how that nigga did it But he sittin' on a few mill All I gotta say is nemesis Bet I know one thing betch you they know Who shot my mommas house up that night on magazine Should I say I want to take a face nah 'cause if the district attorney get this tape they might build a case I'm high as fuck man inhalin' it beatin' on my chest like Tarzan Hold it fo' ten Five lucky to be alive I only got one mo' album to do on jive, an' I'm gone I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece Let's go half on a forty an' a twamp sack of broccoli I got a car deville coupty So what if it's primer colored so what it's a hooptie So what if the lifters tick I know I'm forty water So what if I gotta get up under the engine an' tap the starter In the mourning eatin' cereal Strapped with the 223 infrared material Who come from nothin' who run the thirteen hundred block Who used to top have to walk the streets floodin' wit' holes in they socks Who really real, how many know the deal Who got they church clothed from the good will Click shit makes a muthafuckas night Niggas listen to it 'cause it's right Money don't make me, I make money What I look like fuckin' over a broad, playboy I'm a macaroni I mean that bitch got miles on her she's a ho I mean that bitch can teach the wind how to blow She's a pro groupie though Zulu jocka binaca The hood head knocka' I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece Sometimes I'm suited up sometimes I don't care When I'm grindin' I don't brush my teeth or comb my hair When I'm timin' I like to buy drinks When I'm timin' it's louie the thirteenth Ballers you know how we livin' You know how we meet 'em in the parking lot at Popeye's chicken I can mesmerize a hoe by jowsin Can you make a g look like ten thousand Where all my ghetto tycoon, beanie caps, and kangols Where all my niggas wit' them federal beepers on they ankles Where all the hood-hoe dick teasers Where all my beautiful black intelligent divas I don't' need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece