Lyrics:
I'm so damn nice
I hand write raps that's crack
Klu Klux Klan white yes your ass an A-Rab
But you not the Taliban type
Cause you ain't never pop off
a spell that she's cast
She's got the magic touch
Oh no, but it ain't gonna last
She's keepin' her love light shinin'
To blind you from her lie
Jasmine
She's a magic carpet rider oooh that's it get it bitch
Oh you Jasmine
Big grip make her do flips
Couple trips make her do tricks
Nice ass not a big
them fake hating pop MCs on your news feed
Top speed
I ain't stopping
Check the brake line
Tell em that it's game time
Man I'm bout to get mine
Gliding
them fake hating pop MCs on your news feed
Top speed
I ain't stopping
Check the brake line
Tell em that it's game time
Man I'm bout to get mine
Gliding
and like
She a schoolgirl by day and a stripper by night
I'm lookin' for a dime that's top of the line
Cute face slim waist with a big behind
I
sedated
Had to pick the pen and take vengeance on rappers overrated
Word, now check the system that they set it for us
Cuz our uncle sam's sounding nice but
that's all she wrote
Streets like cold Chicago
Ain't nothing new, I've seen it all before
But still I ball like no tomorrow
Goodnight, it's over with,
Esg is on lock
Them boys ain't gone stop
Them boys be comin through
I'm sendin shouts to 2pac, and that Tyson
I'm dressin nice
I'm steady wreckin
[Verse 1: Slim]
Tell me why you're here tonight
Are you looking for someone to do you right
I see you standing by yourself
And I heard you're
ain't stop you from dying
Cause niggas still a snitch so ain't stop you from lying
My trigger finger itching ain't no stopping me from firing
Like Slim
in the room now I use That mic
Stepped in the booth and the tune Sound nice
Hotel room with a slim thick one
Got me squeezing the back like a Suit
Like magic on his tires
Girl that's Juvenile
You don't know he on fire
17 inch Momo's
Like magic on his tires
Girl that's Juvenile
You don't
Like magic on his tires
Girl that's Juvenile
You don't know he on fire
17 inch Momo's
Like magic on his tires
Girl that's Juvenile
You don't
straight
What? I'm losin' you?
Oh I forgot he delusional
That's a Cass' trait
I ain't wit' the internet beef
Don't want police knowin' i'm a wolf
Ain't worry
vest on and shoot myself in the head (Bang!)
I'm steamin' mad (Argh!) And by the way when you see my dad? (Yeah?)
Tell him that I slit his throat, in
by the next nigga gun
If that's the case, then get a bigger one (yeah)
You don't think I pack the pump 'cause I'm out of the hood
That's
fan
She the intelligent one, I'm just me with my dumbass
She a slim, fine woman with some twerk with her
She ain't got a lot of ass, but I could work
I'ma make these niggas put his name on the wall
And everywhere I go I got Mr. Magic here
Because I know that nigga don't care
He'll have that red s**t
happened so quickly, so quick, by surprise
Right there in front of everyone's eyes
Greatest magic trick ever under the sun
Perfectly executed, skillfully
chilling with your new hoes
Thinking bout your past hoes
Yeah, caught up in some shit that you ain't ask for
Reminiscing, thinking bout your past life
Caught
I'm the three
And three (badda-ba-ba-by-by) it's the magic numberrr
(badda-ba-ba-by-by)
Chorus: KRS-One
It takes 7 Dee Jays to control a sound
can call it that
Shawty slim but still call it fat
Come here girl gimme all of dat
He a chatter boul, we don’t fuck with scrap
Send a ladder, aim it
[Verse 1: Slim]
Tell me why you're here tonight
Are you looking for someone to do you right
I see you standing by yourself
And I heard you're
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