Lyrics:
glocks know how I kill all your soldiers freddy
My machete (huh) will cut niggaz like I ain't really like 'em
(Ha!) then carve a nigga meat deep like I'm
on my pretty boy dick
Pitching since a younging i was always in the bullpen
Say she can't take it but yet she fit it all in
Fake niggaz rocking that ice
strokin' all by yourself
Understand this Bubba Sparxxx, S-P-A-are-triple X
I sprinkle soul in your pussy hole
And put some coal on your nipple and neck
line keepin my people off the grind
Probation and parole, niggaz in four doors
This ain't for the radio but you run away poor folks
of success
Niggaz thought by now that I woulda took the magnum to the chest
Or have the staggerin' arrest record for dabblin' in this
I knew I shouldn'ta
you niggaz and bitches just keeping my gun by my side
This is therapy blind them wit silence I play me a symphony
Call me a tyrant I'm causing a riot
And to think you could hang with me
I never would spit this game for free
I'm the T-double-O, S-H, O-are-T
I rock all stages and any parties
Any my style is
of the club
We 'bout to get right niggas! (We 'bout to get right niggas!)
We 'bout to get right niggas! (We 'bout to get right niggas!)
All my bitches with
how you get it just make break
I was taught never slide ya pivot just stay set
If you winning gotta give ya niggaz all they cred
Can't call em bitches
Fuck wit all the talkin where the money at if u ain’t talking bout no business den it’s all cap
Iont want my niggaz bragging bout a hell cat
can't trust no niggaz
Wait a minute
Don't trust no bitches
Wait a minute
Stay wit a pistol
Wait a minute
You been counting money all day
Wait a minute
You
tape decks, my own phone sex
Watch out for Haiti bitches, I heard they throw hex
Yo, Wu whole platoon is filled with rac-coons
Corner sittin wine
of this drug ring, just waitin to be crowned
You havin money by the ton, I got thousands by the pound
And the urge to splurge for all you niggaz want
show
And everybody want to be a G when they grown
Same song in my hood
As it is in yourz
They send real niggaz to the pen and score
Wars caused by
[Money Mike - talking]
Hold up, wait a minute, let me put some pimpin' in it
Ladies and gentlemen, pimps, and hoes, and bitches of all ages
This is
crack, Pun, TS, Bronx regulators
Stomp little niggaz to death for tryin' to imitate us
Y'all could never see us, be us, TS, kill the BS
'Cause Pun got
and I swear it’s clarified
Sitting by the table look the screen for reply
I was on my own
No one said they know ME
PTSD going through my mental
I need
along the way
Shoutout to all of the hustlers that be at it everyday
Shit I gotta kick my shoutouts
Legit niggaz need a shoutout
Legit bitches need
den fast food
Now I'm up & I see hunnids
All I'm focused on is money
Fucked a cougar she keep runnin
All I'm focused on is cummin
& these diamonds on my
gorgeous
I got art ho's on my line, I got skater girls just
Blue faces by the ceiling, everyday it's raining racks
Wake up in the morning, everyday I'm
right now
why'all bitches bow down, to..
[Chorus]
[Prodigy]
Yo, we don't negotiate, we move on impulse
You try to insult me and my associates
So
the ground, fitted with a suit in a pine box
(hah!) with my fresh pressed khakis in a slingshot
So beatbox all day in a nigga face
And all you bitches see
a nigga for a trophy
Leave a nigga lean like codeine
Straight fuck you no grease
No justice no peace
Niggaz dying in those streets
By the hands
Yo we known for winning, we like Kobe and Shaq
Or Jordan and Pippen
Off the top or it's written
They who numero uno
My ego's big as a sumo
You think
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