and some chilled wine With the windows cracked open feel a slight wind I take my time as I ease into step ten Believe when my only reasons for this hon' is pleasin' Stickin' my
like butuvas Smooth as luther when it comes to suckin hooters like a hoover Who the man now? impressed so many mamis, I can't count Holdin my count
, new whips, new K A million for my great grand children to my new day You straight? I'm just trying to make sure you straight Keep them nappy head bitches
ass body Groupies lookin' for the after party I used to be wild as fuck, get my dick sucked On the back of the tour bus with two or three sluts Check into my
you never had none like this Just wait til' you see my dick Hey bitch, wait til' you see my dick Wait til' you see my dick Hey bitch, wait til' you see my
head Powder smoke clears through the walking dead The Rose bottles pour for the Champions You think it was a Grammy win Celebration spills through the morning like an ambion Bithces love my
used to do I was told could be self distructive Mommy beat me in the head, 'Til the things i did was productive That's why i count my every blessing
tremblin', I give you three seconds To break out before you resemblin' a dead man A hole through your headband My gat's in my right hand, my plug's in my
Ghetto gospel that is- listen Rotten' Black Cotton in God's eyes Speak [Verse One: 2Pac] Black Cotton Steady stressin' Smith and Wessons count my blessin
they rugged out And they vest don't protect from the head wounds Reload ammunitions and them bitches will be dead soon Smoke rising from the barrel of my shotty I finally got revenge, now count the bodies
I thought to fuck with you was impossible Count you're baby daddy's, now 2 ain't impossible, uh You still got it though, yea you still got it though Girl your body
with eggs and bread jelly My hoes they rarely pop that p-ssy, They put off in my Pontiac on Pirellis '82 edition Spotters body squatting on sixes? Rather be counting
[Chorus x 8] Gimme sum, Gimme sum Head in here you selfish pig (La Chat) I'm creepin up through the cut I got the mask upon my face I hope no one's in
and found And happy Bar Exam 2, it's the thought that counts I call these rap niggas crunk cause they talk and bounce That money stay on my mind, like my thoughts can count
late Had my wife out while I think I'm on a date But I rolled the Philly and I counted my bread She said, "One more time" and she grabbed my head I'
[Mad Child] I've lost track of my body count, The amount is enormous Dropped in sector four Non-conformist intimidates, Eliminating all heads of state
with beach balls, at least three whores Head wop Queens know how to work they jaws They skin tone is coffee and milk, mixed up Ass as big as my boss'
banged on my chest like Kong King Merciless Meng, point the killa bee sting Ring dings right through your head bing Snap the wing off of bats, my battle