| I’m a soldier mane, thought I told ya mane
|
| I aim and flame ya, I’m the pro-to-pane
|
| Niggas sizing me up like I’m buying a tux
|
| So I interrupt, crease 'em, iron 'em up
|
| With the nina, not talking 'bout the two singers
|
| Cause a leprechaun wouldn’t even press his luck
|
| I’m sure to pluck any chicken with a rhythm I could fuck
|
| I tell 'em call me up
|
| Like is it on or what, can I cut 'til dawn, or what?
|
| A slut say she want a slice of all of us
|
| Intelligent, say her marble’s marvelous
|
| She go down south like black colleges
|
| I’m a psychologist, I tell her I can adjust
|
| Anything in the world that be bothering her
|
| Everywhere I go, guarantee she go
|
| Pussy pop on the low like a silencer
|
| Back to the realest shit, cop a car, mash that
|
| Crash that, then I’m back at the dealership
|
| Diamonds on my necklace, diamonds on my left wrist
|
| Diamonds on my right wrist, damnit I’m the brightest
|
| Back to the realest shit
|
| You an exclamation, fuck an explanation
|
| Better watch yo lady!
|
| (Boom!) Bounce (Boom!) Bounce
|
| (Boom!) Bounce (Boom!) Bounce
|
| Better watch yo lady!
|
| Back to the realist shit, niggas ain’t raw
|
| You grilling, I’mma menage a woman and I
|
| Barrage, be intimate, a massage beginning with
|
| Caress from her tongue, deep throat raw
|
| Lot’s of trauma, ya baby momma
|
| Brain is crazy: Jeffrey Dahmer
|
| And I’m finna shoot like a dirty llama
|
| Big truck kicking up dust: conquer
|
| Chocolate seats: Willy Wonka
|
| Passenger: Pretty Woman
|
| Directed back, bring ya compass
|
| You bringing Carson, you bringing Compton
|
| Y’all bring the nonsense, we bring the real
|
| Like pro tools, never gross 500 mil
|
| And we out in Brazil, in the green like Blankas
|
| Bonkers, tell 'em Top Dawg is here!
|
| Back to the realest shit, cop a car, mash that
|
| Crash that, then I’m back at the dealership
|
| Diamonds on my necklace, diamonds on my left wrist
|
| Diamonds on my right wrist, damnit I’m the brightest
|
| Back to the realest shit
|
| You an exclamation, fuck an explanation
|
| Better watch yo lady!
|
| (Boom!) Bounce (Boom!) Bounce
|
| (Boom!) Bounce (Boom!) Bounce
|
| Better watch yo lady!
|
| I think it’s that give us that back
|
| Whatever war you bring, send me to Iraq
|
| I rap like my tongue was sitting on a match
|
| You struck by lightning, frightening, gotta be a Heisman
|
| Trophy, lowkey, the one and only
|
| Slay a ho, play a ho like an oldie
|
| Yup, and I’m dope like Opi
|
| Um, so I’m out when the police
|
| Come, like a nut, I’m a nut
|
| For the bucks like a shotgun bust, and I bust
|
| Venom inside the brains of young dames
|
| Like Mr. Dash speaking to his kids on Jay-Z
|
| We running the game
|
| Y’all slipping like run in the rain
|
| Ya bitches running away from y’all to us
|
| In God we trust, at y’all we bust
|
| Back to the realest shit, cop a car, mash that
|
| Crash that, then I’m back at the dealership
|
| Diamonds on my necklace, diamonds on my left wrist
|
| Diamonds on my right wrist, damnit I’m the brightest
|
| Back to the realest shit
|
| You an exclamation, fuck an explanation
|
| Better watch yo lady!
|
| (Boom!) Bounce (Boom!) Bounce
|
| (Boom!) Bounce (Boom!) Bounce
|
| Better watch yo lady! |