| Bam Bam in the mother fucking building
|
| Queens, New York
|
| Straight up
|
| Drop that shit
|
| It’s me
|
| I built this shit
|
| Yeah
|
| Let me begin baby, my name is Bronsoliño
|
| All I see is C-notes, silk shirts at the casino
|
| It’s time to take those leather pants off, this ain’t no dance off
|
| I know your hands soft, you’re on the menu like the lamb broth
|
| This is a grown man’s sport
|
| And, dog, I leave a motherfucker laid out on the handball court
|
| I never brag and boast, I’m fire out the dragon’s nose
|
| My words pronounced just like a camel toe
|
| And every whip in the garage laced
|
| Keep that thing in the guitar case, bait the cops into a car chase
|
| Crash the mother fucking Jeep into the venue
|
| You better pray to God it’s straight to Heaven where they send you
|
| Ah, why the fuck would I have a bodyguard
|
| If I look just like the mother fucking bodyguard
|
| Baby hair curls on my forehead, leave your whore dead
|
| Hop out that four times, four door and draw lead
|
| I’m underground and I need more bread
|
| And I need more head from some bitches straight from Morehead
|
| State your business cause I’m busy tanning naked
|
| My joint is shaking while I’m wearing bracelets
|
| Uh, your words are tasteless, your taste is basic
|
| My taste in Asics will lead your fucking spaceship into Matrix
|
| This place I made is quite spacious
|
| And dog I’m not the one to fucking play with
|
| Hear me? |