| Weed by the pound, lean in my cup
|
| All these bitches coming 'round and they leaving here with us
|
| The homie’s got the four pound if you tryna press your luck
|
| Get it wrong, yeah you niggas know what’s up
|
| Bitch we 'bout to turn up
|
| Uh, yeah, uh, turn up
|
| Uh, yeah, uh, turn up
|
| Dropping dope just like a dread head
|
| Tatted like a cholo, Actavis in my solo cup
|
| Drinking like a pound of, yup
|
| Looking for a hoe to fuck and suck
|
| Hella blunt, like the shit I’m smoking
|
| motion, dead the bottle soon as that motherfucker open
|
| Yeah so, as I parlay through the beach
|
| If it’s beef, call my niggas from the Naughtys, tires screech
|
| Hammers busting, no discussion
|
| Leave him red like he was blushing, damn
|
| Son of Sam, run the game like I was Vince McMahon
|
| Going ham, yup, high as Mars
|
| Plan of ours, drop some bars, buy some cars
|
| All my niggas ball, Abdul-Jabbar
|
| Killing shit nigga, Freddy, Jason, mixed with Chucky
|
| If the bitch fuck me she lucky, only worried 'bout my bucks be
|
| Posted with my niggas and we chilling
|
| Two twin Glocks, Warren Sapp in the building
|
| Turning up the spot and we dope dealing
|
| White bitches give me top, I supply the coke they sniffing
|
| And she fucking with them G’s, fucking with them key’s
|
| Keys open doors, after I fuck she gotta leave
|
| Posted with the team, forty with a beam
|
| Niggas on my tip, make them young dro show the lean
|
| Uh, in the trap I grand hustle
|
| Birds in the stove, bands in the duffle
|
| Money equals power, power equals muscle
|
| Give his ass a lead shower, turn his picture to a puzzle
|
| Motherfucking Fatts |