Lyrics:
Empty the shells if niggas give you the reason
Never was the type to be stuck and duckin' and weavin
By the grievin'
My story's no fairy tale, reach
home
Ornament is good coz I don't like chrome
That's rippin'
That's rippin'
Chillin' never illin' in the place to be
Down with MIX-A-LOT
I know it's late, I'm on the way
Baby I'm coming over
Been getting that cake earning my stripes, You know ya boy a soldier
Got a few things imma show
you for shit
It ain't no time to waste gotta get to the cake
Diamonds frosty like tony they wet like a lake
Love for all of my bruddas I know they gone
she got a lot of cake
Met her at 7:50 and she was sucking dick by 8
Remember granny cook the yams, I started cooking the yams
Don't hit my phone unless
all that, it's all that-
‘Fore I speak! PPB can't be reformed!
Used to slide by now I'm yelling back “free the boys!”
Got it dusty in my area, we need
that V and that motherfuckin' Humvee
Lame niggas fallin' off just like Humpty Dumpty
You talk a lot, we know you soft, bitch, give me your money
Your
mi full of stamina Mon a
Rasta mi full of culture
Buss ah boy lip way, way taking slacker
Nah sir not ah yah so over yonder
Boy wick like a pancake
the chips
See law ain't no good unless two dice hit
Hate me even if I didn't ice my shit
Fuck niggas, make that money and lots of it
Sold four million
freakin' by garbage can
The next young freak I met was Red
I took her to the house and she gave me head
She likes to freak was all she said
We jumped in
so much, you fuckin’ around and you losing your bladder boy
(God damn)
Look at demeanor, like that a toy?
Your bitches cake is gon’ get battered boy
Man's on a big F ting like Conner
I aint talking bout white boys my plug came from Ghana
Don't you test my YB's, don't you test my runners
Man came
a fact
A lil bit of everything to be exact
Think party mix chips
When I call her a snack
And no Sir Mix-A-Lot
Ain't a part of this track
But she got
to places you never get to go so I got to move from the block I'm a lot richer yo I'm a lot sicker yo I make hits quicker yo when I blaze the haze and mix it
like to lose but every day
im praying i ain't got to spray my tool,
thy act a fool till they see them bullets it be a
lot of random shots it will be
of the cake
This song is just another piece we make
Give everything for her because there is a lot at stake
(Uuuh)
(Uuuh)
He's the boyfriend of the year
(Oh
instead
He think he tuff gotta keep him on edge
I put some goons on his head like some dreads
Cant get enough cuz I'm all bout my bread
Live by the street
I dumb it down for you sir?
I get a lot of green and I don't need a juicer
It's Brandon for the win, Ima make you a loser
Wake the fuck up, nigga you
lost it
And I'd do it all again that's the funny thing about it
I ain't playing, boy I'm 'bout it
Will I change, boy I doubt it
I done been a lot
walk up you
Can see the shotgun spit
Ferrari roof go down, Lam doors go up
I got big boy toys, when you gon' grow up?
Nigga knick knack pattywack
Give
yeah
This is just a little tune about graffiti
The idea is to let you know
That graffiti is rockin' and it's on the go
And there's a lot more to it
If
he be offing shit
My daddy said, "gangstas move in silence"
Ion talk a lot
My favorite room is the kitchen
Nigga, I'm Sir Mix A Lot
The Wraith truck
own man nah I don't need a teacher
Got a lot of flavors but I swear it gets sweeter
Got a lot layers peel back like chiquita
I still mix a little bit
scream "su woo"
Make your little sister scream, "su woo", me and YG Hootie-Hoo, ooh
Frenchie, Juiceman, Gucc, Wooh, bet them boys gon' shoot, fool
Slim
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