Rude boy Ab-Soul Top Dawg rottweiler Just fall in this motherfucker like
Just tell me when, I'm ready baby I been ready baby, since 1987 sometime late February I'm a boss I need an office and a secretary Numero uno, you know, never secondary And I'mma stunt even if a nigga never dare me They say I'm legendary, but I ain't done much Never heard of a knife, right, I'm uncut That's raw footage, don't get it fucked up And you ain't shot shit, that was Duck Hunt I scare 'em, you saw me and thought you saw three 'Cause I could put your life on pause like dogs feet And you don't wanna Top Notch dot com-pete 'Cause like this track, I got y'all beat By like a hundred fuckin' points I'mma have to celebrate and smoke a hundred fuckin' joints, light up I feel like smokin' a nigga Summer day supersoakin' a nigga, yeah him and both of his niggas Can get it fresh out of the clip and a surgeon could stitch him up Affirmative, permanent rest, but
Me no want nobody body on my guns Me no want nobody body on my guns Say Me no want nobody body on my guns Me no want nobody body on my guns No
I get this funny feelin' around wannabe killers Who supposed to move in silence, but be loud as sirens And when it go down, they known to back down like, "Stop the violence" And will probably cry if ever locked in a cage like Biron I'm crucifying liars like Pontius Pilate Whoever try'll vanish I'm on a wack rapper diet and I'm famished Hi, I'm so high I could kick the planet Watch your world shift and then fix the damage I talk bread like every second, I been a sandwich And you're in the wrong profession, you're like a deaf pianist And you could use a pill like fresh bananas I do this in my sleep, smooth like silk pajamas But you don't wanna Top Notch dot com-pete 'Cause like this track, I got y'all beat By like a hundred fuckin' points I'mma have to celebrate and smoke a hundred fuckin' joints, light up I feel like smokin' a nigga Summer day supersoakin' a nigga, yeah him and both of his niggas Can get it fresh out of the clip and a surgeon could stitch him up Affirmative, permanent rest, but
I swear it's days I feel like bustin' my gun Niggas be pushin' me thinkin' I'm pussy Until I clap, leave him on his back, from the mac Empty the clip leave him stiff as a spliff, y'all don't hear me though 38s we don't play with those AR hit your arm, have your homies like, "Where'd it go?" I hate them fake rappers, better calm it down Come to my town, I'mma show you how this llama sound [?] holdin' my waste, Gucci belt buckle Big ass [?] in my pocket, a couple of gs In the club with Soul, yeah we puffin' the weed Makin' it rain, money's nothin' to me But niggas envy us, come and test us Hot bullets hit your chest, fuck your flesh up Duck, I don't wanna leave a body on my gat Fuck around and leave a fuckin' dead body on the track Damn, you don't wanna Top Dawg dot com-pete I put a cease and desist on your heartbeat Why? Because I'm motherfuckin' nuts Me and Soul go celebrate and smoke a hundred fuckin' blunts I feel like smokin' a nigga Summer day supersoakin' a nigga, yeah him and both of his niggas Can get it fresh out of the clip and a surgeon could stitch him up Affirmative, permanent rest, whatTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
