Lyrics:
blow for my niggas
Runnin' round, get down like motherfuckin' gorillas
Shorty bop the wolop, in the spot with the dollop
Pot full of acid, I got
Its LilHop he's so damn attractive look at that sexy hoodlum
Fuck it, I'm outta here it's over I'm a dead beat mom good luck tryna put some
Food
The Sandlot
Stand By Me is a cultural movie, for the kids
You know obviously you got
godfather you know
Now that is something I can agree with, godfather
What
bills
That's awfully kind of you. I hope your mom gets better soon, Mr. Green
Thank you, Bailey. I have quite the assortment of knick-knacks. Please help
the auditions, uh, first up, Mr. John Travolta.
(Jimmy Fallon as John Travolta)
She's like, I swear to God, I mean I can't believe you guys are trying to sell
[Parody of "Stacy's Mom" by Fountains Of Wayne]
Mrs. Claus has got it going on
Mrs. Claus has got it going on
Mrs. Claus has got it going on
Mrs
fresh I got deadstock
But this ain't no cheap this that za make your head knock
Heard he got that cheap but it's mid call it kids bop
These niggas just
the block, felt up, a love jones (yeah)
The reason why your ho got them rug burns (ah)
It's no limit, call me Mr. Serv-On (yeah)
Work all day 'til the work
the flow.
Fixin' test scores to get the best scores.
Droppin' banana peels all over the floor.
I'm the kid that made delinquency an art,
Last name
trap mask on, mask off
My ninjas beside me, the village behind me
Karate Kid done turn to Mr. Miyagi
Wax on, wax off
Wax on, wax off, wax on, wax off
Wax
Anger, but yo that's Mr. Funkee Wallbanger
Concieved in the fire by you warned through disaters
The funky child was taught to the ways of the masters
Mr
outside
Once I finally use them then
It's ovеr you gon' die (You whould never)
Yеp it's getting real soon as
The belts will come inside
Imma Bop this kid
his church ain't right
Deacon is a pimp, tell by his eyes
Mrs. Parks said, "Brother Starks, meet you at the numbers spot
Heard you got red tops out,
his church ain't right
Deacon is a pimp, tell by his eyes
Mrs. Parks said, "Brother Starks, meet you at the numbers spot
Heard you got red tops out,
Man you hell of a pussy for
The shit you did last night
I could tell you nervous right now by
How you moving your hands right
Yeah please don't fuck
for my family than mine did
'Cause hip-hop rhymes taught me more than my moms did
Didn't drink 'til I was twenty-five 'cause I'm my mom's kid
All I
written by kindergarteners
I wouldn't even pay
A single dollar to have you do a show
Or play
In my backyard
My mom plays with yarn
She'll crochet your ass
fond of players
Only wanted ballers
To spoil her
Six figures and camcorders
So what you trying to tell me dear
I got Bentley, Benz send in Mr
and love it, sort of chilly
Then I send a shorty from my block to the store for phillies
After being blessed by the herb's essence
I'm back to my rest,
FBeat Producing all the heat
Blueface Baby, yeah Aight (yeah Aight)
Aight (Aight) aight (Aight)
Bleed Em bop Bop Bop
Bitch I bled 'em overnight
There once was a kid by the name of Dave
Who stayed in the mix and never ever obeyed
He paid no attention to the shit
That was taught to him
Always
influenced by the ghetto you ruined
That same dude you gave nothing, I made something doing
What I do through and through and
I give you the news, with
monster it give me the jitters
cnd u wonder why kids like me already bitter
Tell ya mans I said to pick his fukkin guts up off the floor
Tell his mom
hypertention. That niggas is getting salty
I'm quick to pop off back the fuck up off me
Carlton Fisk banana clip silver back gorilla
Mr. Street life show you
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