Uh, I'm picking my voice a bit, just a bit man,
just a bit man, yeah, just a bit, just a little bit, yeah
Flippin', XO trippin',
oh shit
Flippin', XO trippin',
got the new kicks from the
boy Scottie Pippin'
Still ain't livin', skin off the chicken
And you hoes already know
what I'm sip pin'
Still a big dip per, still a straight killer
Still unloadin' off the 18 -wheeler
Nobody better, never ever ever
Glass on my leg like the
girl Cinderella
Hand on my redder, surf on the netter
Lookin' for a shredder in a polo sweater
Beef gets settled, straight from the ghetto
Say you comin' back home,
boy I keep the spittle
Hillwood Tex ans, not many mesquites
Except the one that got
the two 600 engines
Don't ask questions,
don't give answers
Sitting at the bar cause I'm
not a good dancer
It's the day af ter, pray for me pastor
Mix a lil' purple with the
strawberry shaster
Water, cream, soda,
rolling in the Cobra
Motherfucking thug,
born the 5th of October
Serving that coca, it's the V the Loca
Catch her at the club,
I'm a slapper then choker
Still about to howl it, bite it and I shot it
Call it what you call it,
more brown bags and sonic
men
I'm abracadabra,
struggler not a straggler
Bubbler not a babbler,
hustler not a hassler
Never been a bachelor,
always been married
To these fucking streets,
stay in love till I'm buried
Now I'm a swang, I'm a swerve,
I think I'm seeing blurred
With my boy Serge in the
truck watching Spurs
With my Persian princess on 22 inches
When I sleep she say that my
trigger finger twitches
I'm superstitious and I'm livin' ghosts
So many hoes wanna be with the loafs
I'm tweakin' on the motherfuckin'
weed that I smoke
Throwin' 95 on my
motherfuckin' boat
Ridin' them waves,
chunkin' up my trays
Noble call me up talkin'
bout he wanna raise
Crime show pays, don't do braids
Keep a low cut like the boy
Norman Bates
Battles in the shakes,
jumps in the brakes
White candy paint look
like the pearly gates
Sellin' my tapes in 50 different states
Fuck the radio,
cause you motherfuckers hate
But it's all good, I'm from a small hood
Ties bitches up and bring them
back to heel wood
In my Levi's, sag down to my lugs
With a t -shirt that say weed is not drugs
Be one of us, live in the rush
Just put diamonds on my baby's hairbrush
I fuck with the plus and not the minus
And I might just let my black 9 bus
And it goes like, uh,
y 'all ain't ready for this, uh -uh
Y 'all ain't ready for this, uh,
y 'all ain't ready for this
Come on, you no ready for this
I tighten up my laces,
I'm a brand new Stacey's
Hug and kiss my babies,
then call up my crazies
Tryna make it through another
day ain't all easy
Motherfuckers hate cause
I'm on top like ZZ
Young niggas think we out here
playing fucking games
To one nigga's looking at the
other nigga's brains
Laughed and we giggled
bout the words that I riddled
Now we stiff in a coffin,
rock hard and dick shriveled
Hopping along in my 54 bomb
Yes, I hate pigs like them boys of Islam
Dawn in the wind, not long till the end
No more talking,
my Glock in the palm of my hand
Alizé at the Mandalay
Got a car, they shot two,
the rest ran away
That's how the shit get
done in the deep south
I'm in Vegas watching
Vargas knock a bitch out
Ice glisten, politician on
the down and dirty
Peace to all my fuckin' raza
up in Albuquerque
Signed a bonus with a uni,
now my house is roomy
Niggas wanna do me,
but you bitches nothin' to me
Understand my killer's love,
makin' haters bloody
Actin' buddy,
but he softer than Silly Putty
Hangin' by a rope and gut
him like you do a goat
And on his neck,
write this on a fuckin' note
Bitch isn't in the wind,
what began has begun
Blast my heat once,
sweep him up and be done
I'm one in a catrillion,
motherfuckin' million
Layin' in my bed,
gettin' hit from a Brazilian
Momma still bitchin',
gangsta still listen
I'm blowin' weed with them
boys from New Edition
Man, I'm ballin', never ever fallin'
Skip to my Lou,
my motherfuckin' darlin'
And it goes like
Uh, y 'all ain't ready for this
Y 'all ain't ready for this
Uh, y 'all ain't ready for this
Uh -uh, y 'all ain't ready for this
So if you see him, see him,
go ahead tell him, tell him
Only music is my dope
and I sell him, sell him
Or I sling him, sling him
It don't matter what you call it
My shit's so hot up on the hood
you better record it
Now some of y 'all niggas
think my heart is so warm
Cold motherfucker, me, you the one,
non -motherfucker
Have your whole crew ducka -ducka
It happens when I pull out
my 9 -minute blocker
Nigga watcha, be careful
cause my blood gets hotter
Chunk that bullet out my gun,
non -stopper
Remember when I used
to be a mic wrecker
With the grace of Yahweh
I come to be the mic checker
Now it's better,
now that I'm making matcha
My belly stay full and my
throat is never wetter
Hey Rebecca,
meet me at the backstage later
Cause when I go there with this
we gon' go down to
Jamaica
That's what I'm talking about, for real
See you later
Uh, y 'all ain't ready for this
I won it. All right.
Yeah, right.