| Ok I’m leaning to the left
|
| flag in my right pockets
|
| star track fly, unidentified flying objects
|
| extraterrestrial I’m all about my decimels
|
| retarded in the booth they say I got a special flow
|
| sicker than your average you rappers is ass backwards
|
| Gudda speak crack and you niggas is crack addicts
|
| the simple mathematics
|
| you cut the check and I rake in the green like I’m raking the grass in
|
| pretty bitches damn near feint when they passing
|
| call my whip Martin but the first name Aston
|
| potato head niggas get mashed when I’m spazzin'
|
| think you fucking with me put your cash in, nah I doubt it
|
| I was young and reckless when Pete say he was about it
|
| you niggas is Ducks Howards, cowards
|
| kill the competition and hsower niggas with flowers
|
| this rap shit is ours
|
| pop bitch
|
| Uh, uptown back in it
|
| Hollygrove black menace
|
| black clothes, black tennis
|
| black semi,
|
| I’ve never sat in hemi
|
| that would offend me
|
| try Maybach on Maybach
|
| bitch I got stacks yeah
|
| paychecks on paychecks
|
| and I still want payback
|
| and I still don’t play that
|
| I kill on asap
|
| and you don’t do shit but get money all day
|
| put some shoes on my bullets now they running your way
|
| YM young mula young money all day
|
| where the drugs so sweet like honey on yay
|
| which one of y’all say you want drama I’m honoured
|
| I blitz your ass like a muthafucking lineman
|
| stack of paychecks with a whole bunch of comma’s
|
| still wear red like an old 49ner
|
| fuck shittin on ya, dump the whole toilet on ya
|
| Weezy F baby bitch I hotter than Uganda
|
| Ughhh!!!
|
| Mama aint make me to make homies
|
| she make me to make history
|
| so doing that’s my extra-curicular activity
|
| bulldozer boy and my target is the industry
|
| Two things I love in the World, good head and victory
|
| you aint doing it big and broke stop kidding me
|
| your whip aint up to date and your hoes look like Mr T
|
| This is misery, no Cathy Bates
|
| come at me sideways my money slap ya straight
|
| yeah I’m a big joker so you know I special ace
|
| leave the club with ya girl send her home with an ashy face
|
| love is a gamble but it’s my casino
|
| pretend that your the loser I hope that she
|
| I hope the game got life insurance
|
| cause I’m kill it
|
| and all you wack ass rap niggas dying with it
|
| I’m so harlem eating but still starving
|
| pockets full of fat like all I do is eat margarine
|
| Millz
|
| put the flow in the pot
|
| crank up the notch
|
| burn the song from a stove top
|
| it’s finger licking hot
|
| his pitch flip cause the nigga flop
|
| my shit hit like the pitch was soft
|
| niggas cotton balled
|
| she dropped drawers cause she poppin off
|
| her pussy cross guard but I don’t stop at all
|
| I smash in the car, like fuck the fucking law
|
| I bet daddy gone, who wanna make shit done
|
| the rocky shit
|
| shittin on em like hittin the barn
|
| hey wait they say money talks
|
| man you don’t speak at all
|
| you shop at mini malls
|
| my style two thumbs up like using analogues
|
| I wreck shit for the recognition bitch
|
| Jesus as my witness, say evision
|
| I bore you niggas flame flicker
|
| I melt pictures
|
| Tyga skin aint drippin' |