Print

Dope man Dope man, coke man I play the porsche, 918 I mean the spider you do not know what I mean I got a driver for my drop top limousine Go ask yo bitch I bet she know 'bout Mr. G Yeah he like to talk, she like to talk So when he drop her off, they have a heart to heart Cause he got all the answers And I got all the verses My Benz don't got no ceilings But the windows came with curtains So me and G swerving, me and G swerve I keep the double R, me and Steve Kerr Popping these percs like I'm on injury reserve And when the pockets full of lint, we want that lint to be fur Amen, amen No baking soda, my nigga, we play it raw We put some holes in that nigga, we playin' golf Want you to know it's me nigga, my mask off Cut out his tongue put that bitch in a glass jar Then drop it off to your kid's classroom Dirt bags, we belong in a vacuum A pad room, I fuck in my bathroom Long hallways my room is the last room SongtexteLong hard days, my schedule don't have room You home all day, you stuck on your Mac book I'm gone all day I'm chasing that checkbook I'm stoned all day, I'm stoned all day, I'm on D'usse Back in the day we was on section eight Now we got our own section, motherfucker like "hey" All y'all niggas know what time it is like Flav Public Enemy Number One like Flav Fifteen with a mouth full of golds like Flav Fifteen with a house full of hoes like Hef Gave G the day off cause the car park itself Shots take off like a stealth and they landed in your scalp Letting human heads replace the Grammies on the shelf Put a bitch head right below the belt 'til she belch And she do not get a dollar, zero, zilch Cup muddy, muddy, muddy, muddy, muddy Tunechi pass the blunt, I'm gon' need time to study They don't know who got the gun but they know who got the money We don't wanna know what's up, we wanna know who got the money What these niggas wanna do? What these bitches want from me? Bitches claiming I'm a dog, but these bitches want puppies These bitches bring luggage, my bitches bring others My bitches bring rubbers, your bitches burn rubbers Your bitches burn supper I'm still major and I made y'all niggas You getting bodied by a skater nigga I'm not the typa nigga that be skyping bitches Shout out to all my bitches one nighting niggas Make sure you hit 'em with that Slut Walk Then text that man to fuck off See I pour up another one, another one Got the cream started tasting like bubble gum Woah, straight swerving on these niggas From condos to islands to Bourbon on them niggas Them other niggas just wasn't deserving of me niggas So I'm swerving on them niggas No more Family Matters, no more Urkel on them niggas I'm feeling like a born again virgin on them niggas I'm running to the bank, quick as Hershel on you niggas What's in your wallet? I done went commercial on them niggas On purpose on them niggas I got the all black hoodie, all black gat to match Yeah, put it to your head and blat When we see you boy shots, we coming back to back Long hair, don't care, nigga, Cactus Jack No ceilings Aus Songtexte Mania