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