Lyrics:
Sports-Illustrated model all in my condo
Ice in the pot
In the trap, I'm Sir Mix-a-Lot
'Bout to spend a mill on a car lot
Streets dried up
Get tied up for small packs
little friend, she knew how the fight would end
So she handicapped McGinn
By slipping 'Mickeys' in his gin
And so the might of 'Iron Man'
Will rust away
the party
And we finna turn it up like it's bottles of Bacardi, aye
Now get loose
She gone mix in the juice
She gone mix in the juice!
It's the weekend
Verse 1
I told ya I’m getting too old for this shit
I just lost my mans
In fact he's still alive and well
Niggas in the way
They going out the way
And doing a good job
And rippin' up the pavement with 'nuff shit
Aww shit!!
I think I jumped into a maze
And now I'm being surrounded by dead niggaz
the bass drop and hopscotch on a robotic man big as a rock stop oh no he slapping your face in with a massive metal long dong down by the Fox inn popped my
Annual, sponsored by motherfucking Valentine
Cross Country Clothing
And a lot of wack shit that the hood will
Not wear anymore we got my man
Up first his
in me man
Going all in
That’s my squad
That’s my slime
Do anything for the block
We tote that iron
Never presented a problem
We always grind
Never give
out the whip, hoes come runnin'
Man that silly ass bitch, I ain't gon' fuck nothin'
Ho stop playin' games, come suck somethin'
Hey, bend it over, put
bag, clean mix
Stretch out the pack, clean mix
Stretch out the rocks, clean kicks
Fresh out the box, beat sticks
New whips fresh out the lot
Ooh
could be quenched quickly by the man from Galilee
For the water flows eternal from the well that never dries
For it flows right out of Heaven where
The only billionaire, playboy
Philanthropist on the block
Kidnapped by terrorists
He ruined their entire plan
Turned a box of scraps into
A fully-suited Iron
When I first came to town people
I was walkin' down Pennsylvania Avenue.
I heard a lot people talking 'bout the White House.
I decided I'd drop
from the norms
And soon millions of folk
Records were being sold
By the early sixties, Dylan, Baez, Phil Ochs
Were doing intellectualized copies
I'm one man, sir, who knows for sure
That you reap just what you sow
I sure appreciate your listening, it helps me a lot
You know to have that man's
walking, talking trynna' do it like me
No you don't do it like me
I know a lot of man that think they do it like me
I know a lot of man that think they
to these bitches
I'm unbothered by yall
Look how my Jello booty Switches
And you sir
You look like the ghetto movie Bitches
I'm defending my friends
Cuz I
Hum V (V)
I'm surrounded by these RBGs
(HEeee!!)
We get green, roll green, and eat green like sebi
Born in them 80's
I clown like I'm Bailey
This
ain't ready
c Lot of men can't deal with women of my caliber
If you can't control her, bone her, own her then you mad at her
I walk by smelling like ylang
like cartoons, southern cities with large moons
Faith healers, ex-female drug dealers and art booms
Apologize for my weird mix
What taste like hot
Treasury or State?
I know it's a lot to ask
Treasury or State?
To leave behind the world you know
Sir, do you want me to run the Treasury or State
lied
When I said that I would be a
Big MC by end of school term
Man thought that I lied
I'm chatting to some girls outside
Screwfacing a couple boys
clean and dapper
Lots of people they say I'm changing
Don't see my method, don't see the language
Je m'en fous, I don't think of you when I'm making moves
not
Turn the heat up turn it hot hot hot
Take the iron throne like GOT GOT GOT
Throw me in the furnace get it hot hot hot
No looking back like Lot Lot
.png/220px-Iron_Man_(circa_2018).png "Iron Man")
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