Cage, c'mon, dawg, we gotta jet!" Now it's on, don't ever mention 'Lo in your songs (Why?) cause even Thirstin know you still live with your moms In the
a wrap How could you possibly stop the Apocalypse When I'm atomic bombing the populous Shock the metropolis hostile as a kid Popping the Glock at his moms
violence Take it from your highness (uh-huh) I done squeezed mad clips at these cats for they bricks and chips Number three: never trust no-bo-dy Your moms
make hit with stars And I brought the cake home Said this was ours Now we argue and such We lost the touch Spend a week over yo moms Cause your heart
How could you possibly stop the Apocalypse When I'm atomic bombing the populous Shock the metropolis hostile as a kid Popping the Glock at his moms
bigger than life; got bitches throwin they drawers on stage - that ain't me! I raise kids, push whips, piss an MC Love money like I love my moms Love
man had a plan and had to follow through with it But moms was so inconsiderate. Illiterate? Nope. I read the dictionary daily. Give the gap the rap and set sailing Step moms
into the next room and start getting undressed? What's your pleasure? [1st Verse- Violent J] Fat Sweaty Betty, the bitch ain't nothing new Her moms
of-view The renegade; you been afraid I penetrate pop culture, bring 'em a lot closer to the block where they pop toasters, and they live with they moms
sun, it's cool I got the time to feel the need to run, a fool Is what I've become, young and I'm dumb Been spending cake to get some bump in the trunk
Need a right hand so I f-cks with chevy And underneath the wings so I hustle heavy Tatted on my face, chest, neck, hand, stomach Been on that paper chase since that cake
's goin' down Why they sellin' niggaz, CD's for under a dime? If it's all love daddy why you come wit' your nine? Why my niggaz ain't get that cake?
these, I'll put that there on every day Boy tryna figure me out, is like Lamar changing But my childhood was fucked up - raised rowdy by a single moms
, (Nah) Probly never had a fight, No guns, none of that, Niggas know im right, (Yeah) I say goodnight to my son, Give my baby moms a little cake, And my moms
I got roaches and vats of the rats carryin' bats and gats So I 'fore I snack jack Because I'm not down with water from the hydrant My moms takin' a
fame and fortune Why can't you live this? All day hands on bitches With financial ventures, enhance the riches Gotta hold the cake, my grand moms had
I still rap and get paid to gat Since '87, that's how the shit comes We made two hundred thousand in six months Sellin' tapes not cakes, cheques kept
