Lyrics:
to the metal
I'm rugged and rough for Cocoa Puffs, and yes, I love my Fruity Pebbles
So howdy, my partner, I starts to get meaner
So ask Bob for hope, nope, not
couch potatoe
Sit around like a fixed tom-cat
Watchin' sponge bob and gettin' fat
You used to be my only wish
Now you've been replaced by a satellite dish
on Tuesday
Parkin' lot, I killed them, I left the top roofless
Boss bitch with me named Cookie so I'm Lucious
Forty two shots, no handgun, I'm shootin'
and faxes
This industry'll is like fuckin, fat bitches
All work and no play, I do it everyday
anyway cuz I gotta stay paid 40
Say that you got it all
out right
I need to know if we doing this shit or not, man
I'mma chill for like, another 40 minutes and then I'm going home, aight
And then, then,
and broke, the safety on the 40 is broke
Uh, I blic until you lose consciousness (uh-huh)
High school dropout spitting like I got a doctorate degree
I'm
Yeah yeah, it's the West Coast remix
West side the best side
Snoop, Game, E-40
Nothing can stop me, I'm all the way up
All the way up
I'm all
on.
My heart is armored,
I'm haunted by big booty women,
With tights on,
I love it when they do me,
Especially with the lights on,
Pretty Trini
We in the 'partments
Get that fetty cleaned, money laundry
Big ol' 40, got it in the glove department
I'm from the 'partments, in the 'partments
I'm
Days Of 49
~~~~~~~~~~
Im old tom moore from the bummers shore in that good old golden days
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares
the eagle claw clutch
I'm just to much to touch
Keep the mike beside me like Starks and Hutch
Word Up quick to roll a dutch and puff it up
Blunts everyday in
Death's at your nose
I've had a makeover it changed me
Now i'm straight faced goin 40 miles over 80
Im on the highway. Rock by baby
Knock yo ass out. My
on my Jack Jones
Take everything but that soul
At least you're still alive
I'm evil in disguise
This guy's like black Coke coca-Coca
Yeah i'm liking fat
an airline 'cause easily I'm that high
Fist full of money mix some green in with your black eye
Greedy like a fat guy, I eat a nigga franchise
I beat him by
tucked in the back
Unh, 40 tucked in the back
I'm a winner, fuck a rat
Fuck da opps
Shred the scats
Srt bitch money bags
Got ya girl, counting
Bob with the beat. Mob with team
I'm wanna be next up I'm not, but I might be
All the way to the top now sight see
Sit back I'm chillin like an ICEE
got some real shit
Trying to be like $hort motherfucker, you know what I'm saying?
Dangerous Music got some mack shit for your ass, boy
Fuck him up,
I'd appreciate some change so I
Can be free like a BIRD MAN
This KID KID thinks I'm LUDICROUS gives mE
40 cents I'm like word man
That scene was
my Jheri curl drippin'
Gangbangin', yeah, Bloodin' and Crippin'
Forty ounce sippin', '6-4 dippin'
No shoe strings, nigga, say word
I'm Magic
style, step back, cause I'm buckwild
All it takes is a mic, 40 dog, and a smile
Baby Grand Puba, Little Rick the Ruler
And in my pocket is crazy fat
flows by myself
Pour more go go gadget
I'm in Slow Mo
4 More bars
I got double though
And a couple hoes
Running in yo door
Running to the dough
Running up
Yeah
Ah
Real hot girl shit
Mwah
Okay, the hate turned me to a monster, so I guess I'm evil now (I'm evil now)
Woke up and I blacked out
your forty
And we gonna do it like this
I got fat bags of skunk
I got White Owl blunts
And I'm about to go get lifted
Yes, I'm about to go get
your forty
And we gonna do it like this
I got fat bags of skunk
I got White Owl blunts
And I'm about to go get lifted
Yes, I'm about to go get
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