Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mayhem Music, artist - Cas. Album song Mayhem, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 09.03.2013
Record label: TSM
Song language: English
Mayhem Music |
It’s that shit right here |
Dollar bill dreams |
My nigga Jag, Cassidy |
Chubby Swag Jag |
Mayhem Music nigga |
Cassidy, the hustla |
And I’ve got my man ARAb, top goon of Philly |
DJ Thorough |
It’s Mayhem Music |
Look, on my mama he a basic chillin' |
Heard he in the streets, he dealin' flip more, Rick the villain |
Big chief, I be smokin' in my TB chillin' |
My little goon just caught a body but at least he killin' |
For show the nicest part bullets rip your spine apart |
Ice got me drawning, niggas clowinin'. |
Watch us clumb the charts |
Oh yea, I grind with sharks. |
I was with 'em last night |
Come to things, I’m the one they come to with the glass pipes |
Stackin' on my stacks just so I can get my cash right |
While with the coka, runnin' miles on my mass pipe |
But I don’t double them. |
I don’t got a Maybach |
Soon as niggas spend I’m thinkin' what niggas could make back |
Hit up Abby, I sent him 2, he send me 8 back |
Gorilla, where my apes at? |
I’ll rock you nigga asap |
Niggas is jokin', somebody told me makes back |
Well, tell me where the cake at. |
The jews and the safe at |
The train, A clap. |
I’m ridin' with fats that don’t slip |
You talkin' out the side of your neck, blaw |
My whole team workin', I come for the cream cousin |
We see you fakin', I see you straight like I’m mean muggin' |
Yea, I’ll be bustin' in my sleep like I’m dream fuckin' |
The smoke comin' out the barrow like a steam oven |
I’ll be rippin' the pipe hard, the stiff in the rod |
That’s why my trips to the night, yea, I be shippin' the blocks |
I’m mad happy, I’m filled with punches, I’m Jag happy |
Couldn’t cut it in school but now I’m stab happy |
And now I’ve got the bad bitches getting mad at me |
Everything cost, gotta pay me just to grab at me |
Got to the bak and the teller throwin' bags at me |
Car lot, got the car, dealer throwin' Jags at me |
We on that new shit, rain man in the booth seat |
Work in the trunk like a roo sip, we too thick |
I’m runnin' like bad tiers, been workin' on mad tier |
Jag fired, got the Family Guy on, it’s Quagmire |
Nigga I’m scorchin', I’m past fire, lava land |
I come from south central, the home of a lot of champs |
I got a camp that I roam with and you got us amped |
My name been up in the streets like I got a stamp |
I’m too hot with the blue rocks in my diamond bag |
We buzzin' like hornets, I’m ballin' out in my Cayman back |
Yea, I’m getting the best A’s from some essays |
Fuck my niggas workin', they grindin' til all their debts paid |
Believe me, you could get greezy like fresh wades |
Run up on you, pull a gun up on you long as my left leg |
Y’all folk would get your jaw broke or your chest cage |
I use the Gillette blade to cut you like a fresh fave |
I’m always on my job, I never get no rest days |
I’m sittin' on the yolk like a fresh laid nestle |
I just cop the watch with the guap that I’ve just made |
The racks C through like my watch got X ray |
And I’m a sex slave for punta on cunta |
Kent 8, I’m str8 like 6 o’clock but you’re Bengay |
I don’t know how them other men play, I’ve gotta get guap |
So I’ll be chopin' them plots like I’m a sensei |
Comprende? |
My clientele order quarters |
I could make that white bitch swim in some boiling water |
And I’ve got your chick open like a C section |
Giving me neck and she don’t have no gag reflex |
You’ll be tricking 'em bitches, I’m having free sex |
My homies like remix, every night a freak fest |
She a freak with some double D breasts |
I’m fly as a pterodactyl, she eat the meat like a T-Rex |
Fuck the BS. |
I’m movin' that Ryan Seacrest |
Grindin', shinin' like a diamond, VVS |
Yea, I’m on the strip to the packet bong |
Lookin' for a nigga I could empty out the ratchet on |
I clap the drone on the same strip that I’m trapping on |
Big kids get that in the same hits, they hat is on |
I got a lot of diamonds and a lot of platinum on |
Cause I rap and I made this track that I’m rappin' on |
These rap cats I be snackin' on |
Fuck it! |
I’m cold blooded. |
In the summer time I need a jacket on |
Cats is dron, I’d better get Lucy Lu |
I’m wearin' shoes, a Gucci belt and some Gucci shoes |
I left this groupie with a coochie bruise |
And a red ass cause I had trash with her coochie coo |
Kiss my back side |
I just bought a coup and made the back seat give the roof a piggy back ride |
And the pink change colors like a kitty cat eye |
That’s crack nigga, cause I’m the shit like crack litter |
It’s a rap nigga |
They say money make the world spin |
I’m at the Louie store, spendin' like a whirlwind |
And put your RA cryin' 'bout a girlfriend |
I’d rather get the pyrex and drop your end |
I get straight to the pussy, no foreplay |
I was sittin' in jail for a short stay |
And let that nigga show up on court day |
I’m a show him a moon in broad day |
AK street sweep, no duff pan |
Cut grams, play the corners like a cut man |
I left school, used to hang in the hookie house |
I dropped all N word and pulled the cookie house |
Big money, gotta count for 3 days |
White girl, I make you drop like D Wade |
Perk Lee, Sour D, you’re the pea haze |
I had your girl tell me I’ve got 3 legs |
I be with goons that take lives |
10 stacks to the ground when I shake dice |
Bad bitch in the car, that’s straight dike |
Fat ass with jaw like a great white |
Night horror, move it all on the late night |
20 large in my drawer but I could take flight |
I’m in LA, I’m a Road Runner |
So fuck lap, I’m getting burned for the lil numbers |
I’m a rich taker, I get big paper |
I’ve got a Mag 32 for my brick playaz |
Or EA’s just a set and I’m the dictator |
20 grand is a bet and that’s shit paper |
I took a brown paper bag to the car lot |
Drove off, red Jag and his hard top |
I carry big guns thata make a car stop |
Give my young’un 9 soft and get a mall shot |
I used to walk around with hoes in my snickers |
Now my block move night hoes in my sleep |
Rolled from the streets and live in the line of fire |
Pull up, bang on 'em, stock myer |
I got nigga thata bring it to your mom homes |
Hidin' in the bush, 30 shot, 9 off |
So what your life like? |
I showed you what mine about |
Sellin' weed, rock bricks, I took 9 out |
I get guap, I was raised on a drug block |
I’m a goon, I keep a mass in the glove box |
We was poor, we didn’t get to eat our grub hot |
Now I’m at the car lot with a drugnot |
Mayhem Music |