Lyrics:
stay focused, stay real boy
The streets playing dirty, get killed boy
This shit is for real boy, did all that shit with no deal boy
Niggas is fakin',
(DJ Durel)
(Murda on the beat so it's not nice)
(Go)
We don't give no fuck (no)
We don't give no fuck (fuck shit)
We don't give no fuck (no)
Most of my friends are behind bars
They're servin' time so I can get long gone, yeah
Jack's got a rap sheet a country mile long
We're thick
on your backside
Cleanse the block gotta leave em all baptized
Big events I get put in an archive
Just like jack in the box surprise
Had to turn this shit
ain't shit
She slayed me and all the boys
And even sucked our dicks
Jack and Jill went up the hill to have a little fun
Jack got mad, kicked Jill in
we rocking
Man (Frontstreet)
(You know how we rocking, man)
What? You want some free
Weed? Call Ball, man, my shit for sale
Gang, gang, nigga, Dipset,
Forget all them bitches they lying a lot
Air this shit out when we sending out shots
Jack of all trades the few in the box
Been doing this shit for more
knew we went out
Like I was lying, I got blood in my eyes I can't see
I'm blind
(Blood in my eyes)
Fuck that shit I'm tired of you niggas
I can't
askin' if I can slam it
I'm
Yo, yo, Redman, man, what the fuck, man
Get the fuck off that, punk smooth shit, man
Get with that rough shit, man, you
[Noreaga]
Eww!
What the fuck is this?
(What is that?)
This is outrageous
That's some Mario Brothers shit
I come to the studio drunk already
That's
What the fuck is this?
This is outrageous
That's some Mario Brothers shit
I come to the studio drunk already
That's how I does it
It's nothing
We got
the wax throw it back, shot of jack, on my tap, on my tap
Yeah, yeah!
I'm the shit
I'm I'm I'm I'm the shit
I'm the shit
I'm I'm I'm I'm the shit
Don't need
I came up in the 'Ville, so I'm good when it's tension
He still doin' shows, but fell off like the Simpsons
Your first shit was classic, your last
shit I ever wrote (against all odds)
Up in the studio, getting blowed
To the truest shit I ever spoke
21 gun salute, dressed in fatigues, black
shit I ever wrote (against all odds)
Up in the studio, getting blowed
To the truest shit I ever spoke
21 gun salute, dressed in fatigues, black
Real talkin nigga
Man I'm all about my cash flow
Nigga I'm the shit my momma
Had me out her asshole nigga I be actin'
Nigga know that we mackin'
talkin' shit but I'm not worried 'bout ya
We did this shit without ya, I'm the nigga they watching
You keep buying pussy man but we keep buying choppers
just a picture of health
Trick-or-treat, bag snatchin' ain't shit for the bitch
Run these Pay Day's, Almond Joys, and barbecue potato chips
No more
Hello
Yo, what it is, my dawg?
Shit, due to unfortunate circumstances, I gotta watch this shit from the bleachers
But I'm rest assured, you gon'
don’t hit my jack don’t do that texting
Speeding by the BK inna left lane
Way too many blessings to be stressing
Got my bitch on lock this shit
Lekker man, yes ben je er klaar voor? Ben je
Er klaar voor? ben je–
Zijn jullie er klaar voor? Jack $hirak, ah
Say hello to my little friend
M'n
I know some off brand weenies Oscar Myer
Got lil homies talking shit but they can't put out the fire
They said they want the smoke but they lying
(MC make another hit)
Hit the road Jack, and don't ya come back (Project X)
No more, no more, no more, no more (hah, ayy, turn me up)
Hit the road
Duhm duhm duhm ooouuummm
Turning the mic into fuego
Duhm duhm duhm
I'm heating up in San Diego
Ya
Taking this shit off the rails
Cooking up under the sun
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