Lyrics:
Atlanta wit' the cartel microwave, boy
Breadwinner Gang, we is mafia material
What up with Big Tony, mafia material
Hand signal
Shoutin' out the plug in
don't fall in love with a boy like that oh
The kind of boy who never calls you back
And he never has the time to ever work it out oh yea
Don't fall in
fake
It's, comin' out ya kitchen sink
Your Mic's a baby bottle, son
Some say they ain't, but I am the one
The slice is that the fire, boy, it'll
was bought by my mum not Herman.
Anyway, Glaucia wanted a way to get back at me and these prison boys seemed like the perfect way so she inserted her
wrong with that guy
I was addicted, a video burn-out and I would crazy when the guy would have to turn out
The lights at midnight, I'd fall on my knees
I'm going out to get fucked up
Pretty boy, blood star
Blue blood, black body bag
I'm a skinzoid anemic
A murdered timeline
Lay it down into the soil
Cause you kill niggas
Nuts for that ice and that
Cream banana peel niggas
Banana clips spill, niggas wanna bang out
For they approval boy
You can't even
nigga I ain't never really been out flowed by no boy
Your food look just right
I'ma eat your porridge
Even though I'm full as a motherfucker like no
on the radio dissin' me?
B-I double G-Ito the E shit's scorchin'
Doing a video for a song
I got blew out of proportion
I found he's the deadliest force
In
directly out the fetus
Evolution for the young killer convenience
Radio check check
Video check check
This is how the city-folk and mole-people connect-nect
and a pitch in the tent
It's just a video camera no need to get upset
Hey bitch do you like sex?
Well me too
I'mma pull my dick out and this is what we
Come out and play
You know we had to do a remix, right?
(Rippa on the beat, bitch)
You know what it is (you know what it is)
When you hear that
Monte had to sit down so fuck the feds still
Got out Manson and Vic de Ville
We from the gutter, nigga, all day
So now it's ghetto ponytails, nigga,
fascinated by the game
I bugged out
They raised twenty-five cent prices
For my video games
Mortal Kombat time for no contract
Back to the Future no one told
hired's out
Stuck inside a cycle, on a wider route
Not a straight and narrow. You a choir mouse
So what the fuck is you cryin' bout
Is taking Fed chances by
for her baby
Boy to come back home
Cus' he out pushin' that chrome
Pursuing that cash
End another niggas dreams when
The fo-fifth blast
Now another
my Magnum Force
'cause when I lay a nigga out, they come and drag em off
(Y'all niggas crazy) Yo them boys ain't got no remorse
I take a hit of my Bob
fall like the bridge over London
When it kick you like Van Damme
Diss me out a East and me buck you over Boston
Head a buss like gas pan
Bullet with
you're gettin' fucked out your green by a white boy
With no Vaseline
("Now you're gettin' done without Vaseline")
("Now you're gettin' done without
Walkin' home from work my .44 pulled up when I'm walking bitch
Old folks out the church say he need Jesus that boy off a bit
Preacher's daughter said I'll
your postcode to W10
Grow apart, fall out of love with your friends
They'll say fame made you change but it's just all them
Some of them get cat, some
you're gettin' fucked out your green by a white boy
With no Vaseline
("Now you're gettin' done without Vaseline")
("Now you're gettin' done without
before, yo, we boys
[Chucky Smash]
Down with the Sheep, roll out the black carpet as we spark it
One, two, check it out, uh, right on target
Aim for
whole Bad Boy shit, we come to bring it to y'all niggas
Me, B.I., Puff, Lox, whoever, Black Rob
If you wanna dance, we dance (come on)
Now trick
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