Take it off, sho' 'nough kid, take it off We gon' take it from the east to the west to the north to the south Show y'all what it's about Don't make me throw no gun in your mouth Know? How long is your cream? This long? Eh yo, his belt got karats in it Swift description, E-320 nigga pitchin' Rock a raw dinosaur chain, hang to his thang It's like, he pump isolated, still cashin' in cream Niggas in the hood hate him, drew a vase of him Blaze 'em, he actin' like Shallah raisin' him This is hydrogen, son ain't live as him He like Maguyver, chin 4 spies with him Roll relentless, desert that he hold is a gift wish Smash the list, give his miss dick Technique, operation sex scream About the bet cream, them alligators jet like a vet swing Nigga like Nicolas Cage with the gage in your braids 2 cannons that'll spray, rockin' banana suede Suck this drunk alcohol dick Fuck y'all niggas with hits, we 'bout to shit on y'all shit Y'all brothas wanna call us out? Name names, otherwise it'd be the wise to shut the fuck up Get pimp-smacked up, jacked up and macked up You're scared and froze of bein' exposed I own Harlem, I bone Harlem, call me the Mayor It's my borough, you don't want no problems I'm on now, you dead pop, all jokes aside I ride the top, you glide the bottom Pitfall, 5 foot 9, my dick balls Shit y'all, leave flat line to stick your's We flip off basic and brace it 8 kills, 47 ways to taste it Never understand what you never been told You did your book bitin' off of my scrolls We hit man, Colombo, coats and hats to match Bust off quick, and then, guns go back Ah yo, I move like Arthur Ash against God 4 raquets, 8 balls and no practice Every cypher's a heated discussion The industry was like a beat that needed percussion And I brun the music, shit that make crews flip Y'all might say that I'm the illest, this is Q.U. shit I used to heat-hole, now I'm takin' over like the repo' No bitches that roll, cee-lo that'll sniff a kilo' We went from Frank's and beans to shanks and greens Now we drive our navigators to banks in Queen's Y'all can't fuck around, your words ain't right Every time I touch the mic, they say, "Perb ain't right" But that's the truth though, d'oh, infact that's it When they drop this shit, I'm gon' cop that shit It's the new star, you want me? I'm at the juice bar Y'all once hap' niggas, give me 2 stars I heard what y'all rappin' about, but bring your stash out You shouldn't throw rocks if you livin' in glass house Sneak your weak shit at us, on the low though Where these cats come from, speakin' about Po' He got cash to cop and I'm crashin' But half of y'all cats just catchin' up to Rae' last year Got guns in the jungle, call 'em Jurassic The chrome, the steel, the 22-shot plastic While y'all niggas cop jars, me and my niggas cop bars Gettin' head from rock stars We blowin' everything apart, I'm smashin' the charts How I see it? Yo, how you see it? Eh yo, what you wanna be when you grow up? Yo, I wanna be a leader Slow your speed up and stop tryin' to be us Say somethin' always, got a future? Stay out the hallways And get yourself right, a 100 more ways Fly like iceberg, nice with verbs, precise words Bentley swerve, hit the curb, jump out, cock back, spit out Shut your block down, get out, criminal route Gangsta shit, can't talk now, gun in your mouth Cream team killas, cocoon cats like caterpillars Giant size gorillas, break niggas backs from the skrilla Scratch, greenback track, Fed's berserk That's my word, disrespect Recca, get what you deserve Inferno, melt down mic's, millionaire in my afterlife Broke bread with Christ on the last night Apocalypse, sleep with 4-5th, 2 clips Passport, cellphone with the removable micro-chip Specialist, 40-karat Sicilian necklace Matching bracelet, cream team crisp the basic © NOTTING DALE SONGS INC; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com