(Oh no, no, oh no, no, oh no, no)
Ha ha, cut the music up, please!
(Oh no, no, oh no, no, oh no, no)
Ha ha ha, yeah!
I play the bullshit from the backseat, champ,
Yeah, I'm in the backseat, still got the seat back,
Feet back, stay from where the fake be at,
Niggas snitch for the shine, where the patience at?
Nigga make his own brother face his back,
Give love, then take it back,
Good grief, man, this world is quite heavy on my achin' back,
Cops killin' for crack, you know the story, snakes eat rats.
Face the facts, you can't change him,
Can't shoot it if you can't aim it,
Can't miss him, if he kill you, then you can't blame him,
That's just how the dice roll when you can't fade 'em,
Get too deep up in that water and they can't save you.
Me, I come out of that water like I was just bathin'
And watch my step on the wet pavement, yeah,
I'm from the hood, so I rep 'em where I can't take 'em,
"Hollygrove, Hollygrove," was his last statement.
So nigga, get that look off your face
And recognize you got a crook in the place,
They call me W-E-E-crooked letter-Y, I'm so high,
I skeet-skeet in any nigga dime like she's mine.
Street-sweeper in the back of the hatch, make me pop the latch,
Leave you bloody with the cops to match,
Bullet holes in your speakers from the chopper blast,
Like– Ha ha, ah!
That's bullet holes in your sneakers, got you hoppin' back,
It all stop when they hit you in your top and back,
No cockin' back, silly mothafucka, you ain't heard 'bout this,
The clips hang down to the dick.
That's an automatic shotty from a drum they call Tommy
Guaranteed to get you bitches from by me,
When I hit every piece of your visible body, he leakin',
Mortimer is no longer leapin', he's sleepin'.
While you pussy niggas is sleepin', I'm thinkin',
Deep in thought, the boy ain't even winkin',
Bob Marley got me stinkin',
Stackin' figures, I'm standin' firm, life's a Slinky.
Pipes is filled with crack cocaine
And the dope go inside of the veins
From where I came,
Though I bear a name only one can live with,
Coach, they won't knock me off my pivot, forget it!
I'm sicker with it, pick a city, buy a condo,
Find a fine ho, let some time go, chill.
What you know about a bongo havin' her mind go
Over a convo about dough? Nothing.
Man, the four-wheelers look so good on the sand,
Tee or tank top, pocket fan,
No pocketknife, no handgun in sight,
Just that rat-tat, tat, tat-tat-t-tat-tat, boom!
Ha ha, tonight, I might just boost my feature price
'Cause to each his own, and the lights is bright,
And I'm feelin' like Mike at a Tyson fight.
I'm from Cita house, Big Momma's house,
She told me to shoot you right after I knock you out,
And he ain't gettin' up after them shots if you hit him in the right spot.
Hold up, the beat might drop.
(Oh no, no, oh no, no, oh no, no)
(Oh no, no, oh no, no, oh no, no)
