pretty like a peacock My nigga locked up, but yea they still on P cock Too dangerous, me and my nigga Kiss Shine more than the stones on babies wrist The fifth jump
you wanted cause I can't be weak Yeah baby that's it, do the split Freak nasty all on my tip I took it to my DJ fresh on wax Put it on the turntable,
ya wanted cause I can't be weak Yeah, baby, that's it, do the split Freak nasty all on my tip I took it to my DJ, fresh on wax Put it on the Turntable
days 60 days, layin in the shade And on top of that I'm stone cold paid Packed the trunk of clothes and funk Jumped on the plane, now what's my name?
to me? Picture me working McDonald's I'd rather pull a mac on you Sorry Ms. Jackson but I'm packin [Kanye West] It's on I'm packin weight like Nina Simone
) My pop's dead, now it's too late to warn me, inform me D's wanna plant ki's on me, eternally I wanna sleep Without the venom of a snake nigga tryin'
got to say Verse 2: Shorty tell me is it wrong if a nikka want to throw links on ya Summer cop coupe with some dope minks on ya Canary yellow stones
make a groove Everybody move Everybody movin' yeah. Everybody move. Yeah. Get on up Get on up Get on up, get on up, get on up and dance (yeah) Play that
2Death French tip on my nails and now my hair is fresh In some brand new clothes with some brand new hoes Is that Phantom doors on that brand new Rolls On
Fuck them blue terr wears and the fuckin' second mission On my dick try'na take me down underground Try'na blame me, try'na frame me they try'na get me
why..why Ohhhhh..they call me cowboy, I'm the singer in black Throw a finger in the air, let me see where you're at and Say HEY HEY Let me hear where
Run for the cue Lisa Lipps Was a Rolling Stone, huh Yeah, wherever she slap slob wasn't home And now she's gone, ain't no sun Shine meaning she's gone
On the firing line lock, one round load Ready on the right? Ready on the left? Ready on the firing line? Watch for your targets Yeah, yeah, pay attention
drop the top on the 'Lac Screw put the tap on the wet Fatback Got the black gat, can't come wack 'Member when clubs wouldn't let me rap Now they call
think the devil trying to get me to sell my soul He keep on walking with me, he keep on talking with me I think the devil's trying to get me to sell
opening ya door When I ain't have a place to stay, I crashed on your floor Taught me the basic survival tools Auntie Cathy, every summer kept me in vacation
team must fiend The ghetto dream, Fox Boog, jigged up Stay in the cut like WHAT, layin in the Bentleys stoned, flossed on, me and Capone Picasso, Mardi
, left her face bruised and we called it making love Day three, her blood played with me Dirty talk caught me off guard Had the nerve to ask me if