What You Sayin

(Chorus)
Hit you with no delaying so what you saying yo
Ni**as ain't paying so I just been laying low
I'm all about famo like Marlin Brando
My bi**h go commando, I'm in command though
I hit you ammo, quick as a Lambo
I play with her pu**y hole like flipping channels
And my bi**hes is too live like Luther Campbell
And I'm spitting this s**t though like I chew tobacco
(Verse)
Shimmy shimmy ya shimmy yay
I'ma kick a ni**a in his mouth
I'ma stick a semi in his mouth, kissy face
I'ma lose the weight in the drought, Ricki Lake
I'ma put get the white and put it out, Em & Dre
I'ma f**k her sisters and her mom, Kim & Ye
They respect all my artistry like Hemingway
And they respect all of my martians
That's why they give me space muthaf**ka
Know you see what's up in my hand so what you sayin wo
Cause I put yo f**king brains all on the dashboard
You not in my f**king lane you on the crash course
And you feeling froggy leap I'm kidnapping yo tadpoles
I can't remember the bi**h name I f**ked after my last show
When I say my cash low I'm just telling a bad joke
Long hair dont care, no shirt like Fabio
Little ni**a dread locks with a d**k with an afro
Oooh Ahh, I got you all in check
I make her (Ooh Ahh) and now she on my breath
I'm with my
We riding on your set
And we can shoot out till it's quiet on the set
Boo ya like Stu Scott and peace up where he rest
Bitch I'm groundbreaking and I'm taking baby steps
I'm about to bust a rhyme, nod yo head and break ya neck
I'ma kill these motherf**kas, you ain't dead, fake ya death
I ain't playing, I'ma hit you with no delaying and I ain't paying ho
I come through me and my woes looking like
This is a what? Gucci falling from the sky
Let's get rich what? Boy, I been rich since 1995
Where you been boy
Money talks and I'm about to send a invoice to them boys
Yea I'm tried of this bullshit
I'm wilding I'm too lit
I aim at yo toothpick, leave yo brains in yo boot tips
Yeah, I'm tied up and fair, put some guap on yo head
Now they can't find your body, like the sack in the bed
This is it, boy, you done dug yoself a hole
That's a pit, boy, that's white s**t, boy
Uh, type of a ni**a that'll slap you with the tooley-oh
It ain't about what you smoke, it's about who you smoke
My homeboy Hoody, yo, he real moody, yo
I tell him no bullet folks, he still do it tho
They give you a funeral, you won't be viewable
When Tunechi come thru the door, them hoes get super soaked
Now do you really wanna party with me?
Let me sees whatcha got fo me
Aye, do you really wanna party with me?
In Squad we trust! Puffing on that stuff, eyes low than..hungs
They don't f**k with us cuz they know that we not the ones
Boy, we got them guns, get a holing s**t out from none
Yo, it's young money, my ni**a, you know we bout to bust
And everybody armed, more armed than Octopus
Write my name on my cups, so ni**a know not to touch
Every time I bust a rhyme, another one bites the dust
Tunechi!