| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I knock a bitch with this pimpin' appealin'
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I need money to touch the ceiling
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I knock a bitch with this pimpin' appealin'
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I need money to touch the ceiling
|
| Short cutthroat cuddie, cold as snow cones
|
| Es Telemundo — what’s up, holmes?
|
| Mac Drevious, Northern Califas
|
| Two hundred diamonds shinin' in my teefas
|
| Backwoods leafas, only
|
| I say «cuddie,» you say «homie»
|
| Bitches all on me, I don’t sweat it
|
| Tryna get wetted, any other shit, dead it
|
| Believe me if I said it, it’s the real deal
|
| Like Evander Holy-muh'fuckin'-field
|
| No pill, hand her half
|
| The shroom got you, make me laugh
|
| I’m a rock star, shout out to the rapper’s body
|
| That’s why I always turn out the party
|
| Cutthroat, down for the murder and killage
|
| Right now, soak up this verbal spillage
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I knock a bitch with this pimpin' appealin'
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I need money to touch the ceiling
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I knock a bitch with this pimpin' appealin'
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I need money to touch the ceiling
|
| Pull up on the scene, let me out
|
| 'Cause I’ma bump a bitch, ain’t no doubt
|
| I spit that shit that they love to hear
|
| That’s why I catch chlamydia twice a year
|
| My game run deep, just ask my daddy
|
| How you think I know about that four-door Caddy?
|
| Trues and Vogues, and hella beat
|
| Full-blooded gangstas with hella heat
|
| Big old choppas and throwaways
|
| Why need a job, I keep a ho at bay
|
| Hook me up, foot the bill
|
| And every night, put the scrill
|
| In the bank, up under my mattress
|
| Another hundred thou', watch how I scat this
|
| And burn rubber, no time for kissin'
|
| Turn down the beat, y’all need to listen
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I knock a bitch with this pimpin' appealin'
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I need money to touch the ceiling
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I knock a bitch with this pimpin' appealin'
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I need money to touch the ceiling
|
| Facin' trigger locks on my hoes on the block
|
| Used to keep a Glock and a pocket full of rock
|
| Gotta have a knot and a whip that’s hot
|
| Can’t be shot, no hustle, no spot
|
| How can I be lost and clueless?
|
| No hoes, no weed, broke and jewel-less?
|
| You sound so foolish, so old school-ish
|
| When bubblegums and certs jackets was the coolest
|
| I went from BMX to full-dressed hogs
|
| It’s bitches in the back and they fuckin' like dogs
|
| It’s the American dream, scream if it’s your nightmare
|
| It’s ugly but it’s fair, so I gotta stack my money all the way up to there
|
| All the way up to there, all the way up to there, all the way up to there
|
| I’ll tell you the truth
|
| I’m LaGhetto LaMossie, and I’m the cognac killer
|
| And it don’t get no better than this
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I knock a bitch with this pimpin' appealin'
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I need money to touch the ceiling
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I knock a bitch with this pimpin' appealin'
|
| Robbin', stealin', lootin' and killin'
|
| I need money to touch the ceiling |