Huh? Want me to speak the Speak the man Nigga, speak the Speak the Speak the the real Speak the
It's a after nine on my AM, FM Shack, digital motel, six o clock alarm reads "40, get your ass up, to hit the grind You afford to pass no money, I know you heard about that"
What, what? "Task raided Millersville, Ms. Miller had a attack" Dude, that's some shit, ain't it huh? I know, she was a good for certain I know
V-Town, California, where I was born, raised and And since 1979, I a hustler on the go You the drill, my mission for real, a mealticket You feel, we slowly but surely approachin' seven
Figurines, sticky doo hicky and Dust Mescaline, niggas know better than fuck us I'm pimped out flossin' in Reno in the Big bid, fuckin' off feddie, I put down on a crib
I does that, I do, rejuvenate, Take a lose, take a lose make a scene Nigga charge it to the triple beam, the stress I let that orange box of baking do the rest
at my neighborhood chef, Raul Known for cloning chickens and one into two That's what he do for a living, that's all used to Playtex rubber dish washing gloves and residue,
Bullshit ain't You see we keep this thuggin' And mean muggin', jump until a done deal You see E-40 and Sick Wid, it the real, nothin' but What if I bring this back Which one, which one You got to be about it or be it Be about it or without it, ay, you what? I you on that playboy, look We fin to run down a whole tac on these bitch ass, Niggas ain't smellin' shit, we do this shit
Last night I slapped a bitch upside her with my faulty phone That Heifer's tired she tried to slash my Caught me in the bed with her Tanji From the she use to hold my sack I use to her down
Way back in she use to look just like a sketch But now that bitch got a ass, tits, and boy, that bitch is bad For it's worth, the pussy smelled like Certs Victoria's
Now folks, just remember, I never said I thought lickin' pussy I said I never thought about it Keepin' it and treatin' it that, I'm a hog
I put it down, I'm from the I live on the outskirts of town on the tuck in the cut In empty apartments, man I'm a baller so you know I ain't got in my name
I'm ghetto celebrity, niggaz get buried for combat if you plottin' and plannin' Oh if you come for me and my dough Let the buzzer be the But my is to stay within your envelope
I'm to block, swingin' on vines service, put up stop signs
Uhh, hold the on Did you or did you not tell these niggaz to stay they envelope? Shit, these toddlers is to the game They ain't know about these tramps Six bedroom flats and dealt And held a across the mat You see we the Yay, where we control they minds And put these hoes on the
Ain't got to but I still it to 7-Eleven, picked up a traders book And bought a Use to have a perm taller than the Hornets But I had to cut that bitch off 'cause see partna had warrant
That I ain't even handled yet, I'm havin' cake The little from the hood, want me to put out his tape He kinda too, remind me of The Click crew 'Cause they was that old high powered Godzilla ballin' guru, ass type you can relate to
Wake to, 'scape to when sunny Ride by, by, get at a honey I these streets like I know my dick I can tell you who the nigga is that's to get jacked And the nigga that the lick
I got this bitch on 999,999 plus a dollar in a safe box crops still in this roster Kilogram, leaf and morphine What about my in the 415? Look they made
My niggaz in the They call it Top regeneration, uncut Designer weed, hempilation, what the fuck?
Sheit, sheit, sheit, sheit sheit, sheit 999,999 plus a dollar, plus a man Plus a dollar, plus a dollar, man, equals a bitch Biotch, sheit, sheit, it