Lyrics
«You get old enough, you remember a reason why everybody wants to whack you
You believe them all, but you know somebody got to be lying
Or maybe, they’re all lying
When you can’t see the angles no more, you’re in trouble, baby
You’re in trouble»
Gun music, fuck a ho, slap a foe, smoke a blunt to it If you’re a chump, turn it off, this is dump music
If you’re a boss, send them niggas to the store to it That old school shit
This is that gun music, fuck a ho, slap a foe, smoke a blunt to it If you’re a chump, turn it down, this is thump music
If you’re a boss, send them killers on a prow to it, now bow to it This is that gun music
Fuck a hit, radio can suck a dick
I go to MTV and 106 to buck a clip
Shoot that nigga Terrence in his head
If he tell him «fuck his mama» then he probably got his parent in his bed
Hardbody, flow should be illegal like a sawed shotty
Come to the Mo, you better call somebody
Slap a sissy ass nigga cause he sissy ass
I don’t need no motherfucking reason, I’ll pick his past
Niggas be like, «why you so mad, Nickel?», shut the fuck up I tell the fliest bitch in the world I’m just as stuck up Yeah, and that’s how I feel, fight me about it Down to do time over this shit, write me about it
I’m ending any problems, sometimes, I even start them
I take a nigga balls off them, leotard them
Pop go the motherfucking weasel like a R-A-G-E in Harlem
Nigga this is that
You know if you murder, I’m here to see you
I got my wife and my nigga, Kino, on pins and needles
They don’t know if they gon' get that Royce caught his death call
Or that department of corrections collect call
I’m going to hell in a hand basket
I whoop a nigga’s ass good, that asswhooping is handcrafted
I rather put them triggers to you cause niggas will sue you
You’re fucked like I just donated my liver to you
If you ain’t get that last line nigga, drink with me I got muscle out here, I roll around with strength with me Yeah, your boy drinks but your boy thinks
Show up with niggas that’s born to be what you boys can’t
We’re so deep in this motherfucking club
I got you contemplating leaving your crew like Lloyd Banks
Rather it’s fair or not, it you and me And it ain’t nothing between us but air and opportunity, this is that
My own cousin say I talk about killing too much
He talk about me talking 'bout killing too much
What the fuck I’m supposed to talk about, world peace?
Nigga please, go somewhere and kiss your girl feet
And while you’re sitting down peeing, play some R&B
I’ma be making the murder movies, staring me This shit here ain’t for fakes, if you ain’t laid a nigga down
That’s bound to be the reason why you can’t relate
Y’all niggas can do the hoe shit
While you makin songs fo my chick, I’m somewhere fuckin yo bitch
Somewhere over the bridge ordering squid
I’d rather call it calamari, it rhymes with Ferrari
For rent is 2600 down like an Atari
I’m sorry, on my life, I’m the life of the party
On my mama’s life, I bust before
Realer than any nigga rhyming, fuck the flow, this is that
