Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Talk Big Shit, artist - Mac Dre. Album song The Best of Mac Dammit and Friends, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.04.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Sumo, Thizz Nation
Song language: English
Talk Big Shit |
Is it Sleep Dank? |
Cutthoat Committee |
Real shitty, nothing pretty |
Is it Sleep Dank? |
I’m in a tight seven tre |
Four fifty four, four door, mob shot Chevrolet |
Got four fifteen, Lanzars |
Hitting so damn hard that I’m setting off alarms |
Got a fat backwood, car tacked out |
Fat four four that’ll blow a niggas back out |
Squatted real low, dank wood killing me |
AC chilling me, but yall ain’t feeling me |
A Cutthoat pimp, tripping and flashing |
Dipping and dashing, I’m sick when I’m smashing |
M-A-C, Dre bitch |
Pay bitch if you really want to stay bitch |
I bring fire, retire (?) wannabe killas |
Can’t fuck with, now who you be, I be that nigga |
Steady ready to snatch it ticket wicked with a fashion |
Tough as Tinactin, that bend tricks with a fastness |
Dipping and dashing, four door Chevy smashing |
Representing that raw shit, to your jaw shit |
We be flawless, putting paper over all this |
But yall just, niggas up in the way up on some garbage |
That jargon, that make a nigga empty every cartridge |
Walking target, make you park it where you start it |
I’m hocking a loogie, its Dubee, I’m telling you |
PSD, Sleep and Dre and this nigga bout revenue |
TALK BIG SHIT |
Big shit talking niggas is off in the building |
TALK BIG SHIT |
Exo, cognac, privilege hennesey spilling, we living |
TALK BIG SHIT |
All on a hoe, yall ought to know |
TALK BIG SHIT |
At the mall or the store, your broad spending doe |
See basically hoe, we hyper spaced out |
Play for the doe but stop hating me hoe |
Squat up on a one tre zero zero Honda model |
No helmet on riding one time |
Shining and glistening, hoes eyeing and listening |
Judge dying and sentencing, girls smile when they mentioning |
Two hundred dollars worth of smell (?) they slipping him |
Quarters zippers on my (?) if its twelve I’m hitting him |
Long or (?) green weed stall my lids and a Cutthoat is all I’m is |
Me and my niggas hollering what hoe, we all on a bitch |
Suck a dick if you can’t fuck hoe, swallow the kids |
Check the formats, lay suckas down like floor mats |
Those who approach get pulled like stagecoaches, we floor cats |
Turned up with no blood lets make it official |
These squares play the front |
We in the back highly sparked off scud missiles |
Sip on fosters slowly, hoes drop they panties just to know me |
And show me, when the five hundred post, bitches kick it like shinobi |
Plenty fuck trophies; |
I rock a bitch like a rollie |
Give her two dubs nigga tell her bring me back 40 |
Scum of the slum, call the bitch names |
Separate the busters from the thugs, floss it in there face |
But would I paper chase, these niggas grab the nickel plate |
And X the faith, on any sorry bitch who want to play |