Lyrics:
the projects, now that boy up next
Ocean view feet wet, KnowledgeBoy trendset
I’m getting my bands fat, I walk through the bag check
I got all of my jam packed,
chased by the fat cat
The muthafucka tryin to run it in the hole
Ain't goin, a muthafucka betta hold that shit
We young niggaz don't hold that shit
If you
Phantom records in this bitch, hoe
Fuck you mean
Yall know what the fuck going on
It's the Legend G Seven
And that boy pella the mother fucking goat
all in me eye
And first by the Clergy invented
For to get a fat bit for themselves"
"Oh, and I'll be cut up like a pie
And me nob from me body be
problem
down wit them drama boys an also Eightball
understand I gotta plan to get me some green
I stay in cruise like control but bustaz
Back in the day he was outta control
Need another standoff but his music ate y'all
That's when me and fat Steve got that handle of beam
Drank that
Hokus Pokus
"Serial slaughtering stranglers
Jugging Juggling juggalos
Folded, fat, floppy-tittied freaks
I see fuckin P's in the haugh"
the ears off me
Burnin' the ears off me (shut the fuck up)
This cunt is burnin' the ears off me
I don't give a rats about your ma or your fat da
Or how
My anaconda don't, my anaconda don't
My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun
Boy toy named Troy used to live in Detroit
Big dope dealer
side of the bush by the patio
She woke the boys up with a screech about a quarter to lunch
Sawblade running cutting up shit she stole from the beach
She
Bought by the dope fiends smokin'
And what about the brother wit' the good jobs
Savin' money and workin' hard?
Bought a house for his wife and kids
Ya
Yeah
As we proceed, to give you what you need
Yeah, its the bad bitches in
Bad Boy
Just talk to 'em
Ass so fat, got a nigga like woah (woah)
low)
Low
I get a brick, you know I get it for the, low
Her ass so fat, I told her drop it down, low
I do a verse, you know my prices ain't, low
get ya face twist
Cartel cocaine by the cases (cases)
Cartel mo' cars then the races (races)
A-K's on a lear jet (g-4)
Rick Ross I'ma Real threat
Ayy, yeah, wake, wake shit up, ayy
On my mama, I can't make shit up, ayy
If I ain't a real boy, what you call it?
I don't think you want no
hit the floe [Hit the floe (3X)]
Here we is boy, here we is boy
[Mr. G Stacka]
OK now
Now who be dropping them bombs
They keeping you crunk by making
Saughterin' strangulars, jugglin' jugulin' juggulas,
Fall-in, fat floppy titty freaks ic fuckin' p's in the haugh!(hoo hoo!)
Abracadabra, boom
time?
Niggas on the playground wanna know what's happenin', you left em hangin' man, what the fuck?
Little Boy Blue is outta Folsom
Now them three
to clean the shit from my bowels
A really hot girl walks by with a fat ass
But I'm just wondering if Hefty really holds the most trash
Forgot my card
punchin out
Boy show me what is you about
Because it ain't about no pape I can tell by how you walk
And I know that you real bummy I can tell by how you
252 lil nigga, ima country boy
Dripping day by day, Ima stunna boy
Eating cabbage rice and some neck Bone boy
Need my money green, I need blues Boy
Stop
dead, man
Mama got taped by the fat man Haraji got taped by the fat man
They say the cycle repeat, yeah They not hear about me, yeah
I'm the one chain my
the champ
Is here I guarantee that they ass woke,
Ridin' on spoke, dats the elbow, still rockin' in da ice white shell toe,
Dis for my boys by dat kelso
shit!
Yeah! We laugh, this is TBM radio
You're rocking out with your boy
I got some boys on deck and this boy
He go by the name Fred The Godson!
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