Lyrics Ignorance - V Don

Ignorance

Uh, they tell me ignorance is bliss
But who the fuck this ignant' nigga is?
That’s Nasty baby bitch, I’m on that ignant' nigga shit
And if a nigga bitch with it I’ll be in the crib hittin'
Couch-side eatin' popcorn with my socks on
40-cal, drink in my hand, bumpin' a 'Pac song
Say that shit that’s bogus and you niggas know it
Hey nigga quit your Hocus Pocus you belong in circus
How you clown rappers 'posed to shine when the lights is broken?
I find your circuit breaker open, I decide to blow it
Uh, you rappers ain’t spitters anyway
I’ll splatter your favorite rapper and kill him any day
I say that shit with plenty save
I’m a dog my nigga and I’ve seen plenty days
I have my days my nigga
But I’m still stuck up in my ways my nigga, I never change
Nasty baby crack in the sack '90s nigga
I never change, Nasty Baby, Nasty Baby
Ignant' nigga, Nasty Baby, Nasty Baby
This ignant' nigga, Nasty Baby, Nasty Baby
I never change, you rappers ain’t spitters anyways
Ignant' nigga, Nasty Baby, Nasty Baby
I have my days my nigga
But I’m still stuck up in my ways my nigga, I never change
They tell me ignorance is bliss, but who the fuck is ignant'?
That’s looney gangster Mac-11, what’s the quickest path to heaven?
Xanax or this .357 that’s my only question
I’m on the edge of a refill
Thinkin: if these drugs don’t get me then the streets will
No big deal
I ain’t new to the bodies droppin' for cheap thrills
Riddin' since the Big Wheels, with the hot fries
Them Hush Puppies, no, we cross t’s and dot i’s
You cross lines, your knots bigger than Popeyes
Make you slap the taste out your momma mouth
Think twice 'fore you look once
I pop-pop pa pop-pop, them brains turn to fruit punch
I’m in that bag again, Mini Van Damme man
Con man’s jumpin' out the body-bag they had me in
How you kill a killer?
I’m a lil killer
Meets Curtis Jackson, a lil dealer, nigga ain’t nothin' iller
I spit in your shades, red rag wrapped on my face
Tec on the waist, a couple pints stashed in the safe
Since free lunch had them brown bags stacked for the case
I said I would change, I guess I’m just stuck in my ways
Mini Van Damme, that’s looney gangster Mac-11
Mini Van, looney gangster Mac-11
I’m in that bag again, that’s looney gangster Mac-11
Drugs don’t get me then the streets will
I’m on the edge of a refill, red rag wrapped on my face
Tec on the waist, I’m on the edge of a refill, Mini Van Damme