car Still tickin' passin' him with two bad hoes Window rolled down so his curls can blow That boy from the west coast, naw I don't thank so I thank
her ass off at Kaiser Never would I let her put a baby on me I ain't the one, I'm Step Daddy I had to let her know just how I feel I'm living way too
I know I be a fiend if I smoke that coke But if I go back to school and get educated Be a old-ass man before I graduated So what should I do, I can't
upped in the house West W niggars In the house for show Father Dom knockin' on your front door Hey hoes, I rest, dress and pimp till I die It's Goldy
's trippin', and that ain't my sport I'd rather lamp up my cirb and flip to rob a port I sip my Vdozen on the street, bump my beats That's when I'm twistin
Imma die by myself And when I smoke my purple I'm gon' get high by myself And if ain't there D-Roc on the side of me We [Incomprehensible] bitch can't
your boys I got boys from west point to Nelly B Yeah I run with black folks too and they do carry heat Plus I fuck with smelly freaks and I think they
be mad I whooped your ass ?cause I?ve tooken a couple feds asking niggas questions but I wouldn?t rebuttal ?cause I?m Jake Gyllenhaal, I?m in the hood
always be late but I was willing to wait for you I didn't know at the time that 5 years down the line I'd be still waiting for you And I never imagined
don?t, be slick I'm feelin' kinda good, I got an itch It's time for your mind Here I go with my rhyme I'm gonna get him from the front You can get him
jealous? Hell, yeah, they be hatin' on the three good fellas Over dosage of ferocious, West Coast in effect Bang straight gangsta shit, so you know it's on
, for mimickin' him with two rappin' Urkels I coulda snapped, took it past rap and hurt you But I didn't, I kept it on wax and served you I square dance 'cause I
I'm bout, she bout that, whatever I'm on, she on that [Chorus - Katrina] Whatever you bout, I'm bout that Whatever you on, I'm on that Whatever you wanna
it was sherm on a stick then I'd probly lit it The red beem was on your wig so I probly split it To all them bitches that think they bootylicious I
later or here on the scene sounds of the zeekers just not a dream Verse 4: Rumpletilkinz I'm drizzy on may i'm be on the ill tate I'm simply teaching
Pigs they cannot shoot this plush and creamy lavishnuss Before I pop I'd rather die in baggy Guess and Timbs And I put that on the BKLYN and thats Funkay
he even try frontin? I?mma make that nigga run outside See I?m a, thug for real, I hold the steel And I could walk you through the hood on the darkest
niggas stay frontin' Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got no jury on Bet I'm still live and I'm coopin' Two of my silver-backs fun through a pack of your wolves Front on