| I’m meetin up with the governor
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| 3−2 and the Hillwood Hustla
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| Comin straight out the head though
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| From the brain representin my ghetto
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| Its a trip how they die young
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| In the hood in my Cadillac flyer, thru the 'Wood
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| Wit my homie Iatola in the Clover
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| Pink soda mind of a noter
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| Lean on my shoulder slang coca
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| 20 g’z on my team Villanova
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| Blow marijuana in the sauna
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| While my niggas move dope on the corner
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| V-12 motor vida loca
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| Now your bitch trying to give me her panocha
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| Fat sweet roller in my trocka
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| And my girl called the cops cuz I choked her
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| Copa Cabana thankin Santa
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| For the keyboard that came wit the sampler
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| Turn up the Clarion wit the stelly on
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| She wit me cuz I am the champion
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| Its the same ol story though
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| Nigga died cuz he fucked wit the wrong ho
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| Its the sign of the times man
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| By second thank God that I’m alive man
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| Peace to my dead g’s
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| Fell short trying to stack up they benjis
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| In the midst and the fog
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| Boys wanna squab
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| All on my dick like corn on the cob
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| You ain’t shit but a job for one of my killers
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| How many niggas must die by the trigga
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| Im a sipper ima swerver first degree murder
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| Smoke a fried stick and get wetter than a surfer
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| No reversing my nature 90 pounds on my pager
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| I dont love you I dont hate you but I will misplace you
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| In the gutter for the fuck of it
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| Gangsta nigga chuggin shit candy on my mothership
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| And haters they can suck a dick
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| So this what it came to yall the same crew
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| Old friends Southeast niggas claim blue
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| But I dont gangbang I claim no color
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| She lost her son what if that was your mother
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| I sit back in my '92 blue 'Lac
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| And I support foundations like LULAC
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| I went to Alma in second ward offa Sherman
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| That was back when niggas jammin to Pee Wee Herman
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| Smokin with my teacher but not the preacher
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| I remember fuckin Liz on the bleachers
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| 1986 wasn’t making hits
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| I was chasing chicks having bad relationships
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| Now I fuck Asian bitches fine Haitian bitches
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| Romanian Italian some fucking bang delicious
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| I went from pain to rich and I remain malicious
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| Shoot em up and leave em laying in some strange positions |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Iatola , by - SPM. Song from the album Reveille Park, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп