| Pussy rap, dental damn beaver trap
|
| The thrill is gone, I’m here to bring the fever back
|
| To the streets, pumping out the big whips
|
| Torpedo rhymes strong enough to sink ships
|
| Two tone grip, Brother Mouzone shit
|
| Better move on bitch, or else it’s on, trick
|
| I’m en fuego, I ain’t even in my zone yet
|
| I spit the shit to make your motherfuckin' dome sweat
|
| Queens-bred, no Packer but a cheesehead
|
| Fat ass, fucking pussy until she’s dead
|
| Suede foot, looking like an Indian
|
| Cuisine straight from the Caribbean
|
| Long jackets, made from an amphibian
|
| Bag of money, split with my committee and
|
| Break it down, vision on the dollars
|
| Dip in the impalas, chilling with my scholars
|
| Get it?
|
| I am not illiterate
|
| Not, not!
|
| Not even a little bit!
|
| Straight up, I make the music just for you!
|
| Nothing, nothing like an idiot!
|
| Call me John Bon Journo, hopping out the Volvo
|
| Ratchet on the leg, dipping from the po-po!
|
| Since a youth I’ve been labeled as a loco
|
| I sell it but I never laced the nasal with the coco
|
| Urban hippie, muffle with the green thumbs
|
| Seven grams a purple to my neck’ll leave my feet numb
|
| Scoop a bitch, Portuguese sweet buns
|
| Serve a dick like an elephant that’s three tons
|
| Her pussy whistle like my father out the window
|
| Remind us that it’s dinner time I’m lighting up the Indo
|
| And when I go inside I think I might just play Nintendo
|
| Call a Shortie from the heights have her play with my colembo
|
| Uh, just let me catch my little breath an shit you won’t accept a kid
|
| Cause your destiny is for deficit
|
| Me, you see I spit like epileptic shit
|
| That’s two options; |
| it’s either you fear me or you respect the kid
|
| Mind like Watson, Fluent in the nuance
|
| Van Damme Bronson, Alligator shoe on
|
| Spin kick to the dick I’m eating dim sum
|
| Right up in the tea room
|
| You don’t want to rerun!
|
| Moon struck, splatter your platoon up
|
| Hard times, drugs out the balloon
|
| Beauty like a butterfly, flying out cocoon
|
| Urban love and central village right by the lagoon
|
| Uh, that’s my grandfather, add a little cream of tartar
|
| Make the grams harder
|
| Now your Shortie hold me tighter than the dance partner
|
| Pull the viper out my pants on her
|
| Honey hit the tune I’ll let it dance on her
|
| Like a gypsy, hookers in Poughkeepsie
|
| 7 homies with me everybody’s smoking fifties
|
| 990 add 2 that’s my shoes
|
| Reflect light like sun shining at high noon! |