| Fucking around in a crap game
|
| Niggas think I’m soft cause now I’m in the rap game
|
| And I don’t hang out as much, bang out dope cuts
|
| Standing on stage and I’m grabbing my nuts
|
| But when it comes to getting in a circle
|
| I’m hitting sevens turning broke niggas purple
|
| Looking for Little Joe and the dumb nigga scream and choke
|
| When deuce-deuce hit the floor yo
|
| Now which of ya wanna fade the twenty?
|
| I’m turnin your fat pockets skinny
|
| Ah yeah I’m shaking the ivory
|
| And boom it’s like they die for me
|
| Fool you can get loud, get mad, hit the joint
|
| But don’t forget my point
|
| There it is yo
|
| I put my Nike on the bet so it won’t slide
|
| Money gone cause I’m never hitting deuce-five
|
| I’m never hitting four-trey no way
|
| You wanna leave but come on ho stay
|
| Nigga fever that’ll work
|
| Poppa needs brand-new shoes and a sweatshirt
|
| Fool you can’t even fuck with that
|
| And now that I’m winning I gots to get my gat
|
| Cause I see your homies starting to look
|
| And broke motherfuckers they make the best crooks
|
| And I’m feeling like a baller
|
| Bucking fools now the circles getting smaller
|
| Now you wanna go and scheme
|
| Punk niggas like you just love to triple-team
|
| So I pick up my money and start walking
|
| Cause now I let the gat start talking
|
| Now since ya’ll lost you wanna go out like a sucker
|
| Take that motherfuckers |