I'm a soldier mane, thought I told ya mane I aim and flame ya, I'm the pro-to-pane Niggas sizing me up like I'm buying a tux So I interrupt, crease 'em, iron 'em up With the nina, not talking 'bout the two singers 'Cause a leprechaun wouldn't even press his luck I'm sure to pluck any chicken with a rhythm I could fuck I tell 'em call me up Like is it on or what, can I cut 'til dawn, or what? A slut say she want a slice of all of us Intelligent, say her marble's marvelous She go down south like black colleges I'm a psychologist, I tell her I can adjust Anything in the world that be bothering her Everywhere I go, guarantee she go Pussy pop on the low like a silencer
Back to the realest shit, cop a car, mash that Crash that, then I'm back at the dealership Diamonds on my necklace, diamonds on my left wrist Diamonds on my right wrist, damnit I'm the brightest Back to the realest shit You an exclamation, fuck an explanation
Better watch yo lady! (Boom!) Bounce (Boom!) Bounce (Boom!) Bounce (Boom!) Bounce Better watch yo lady!
Back to the realist shit, niggas ain't raw You grilling, I'mma menage a woman and I Barrage, be intimate, a massage beginning with Caress from her tongue, deep throat raw Lot's of trauma, ya baby momma Brain is crazy: Jeffrey Dahmer And I'm finna shoot like a dirty llama Big truck kicking up dust: conquer Chocolate seats: Willy Wonka Passenger: Pretty Woman Directed back, bring ya compass You bringing Carson, you bringing Compton Y'all bring the nonsense, we bring the real Like pro tools, never gross 500 mil And we out in Brazil, in the green like Blankas Bonkers, tell 'em Top Dawg is here!
I think it's that give us that back Whatever war you bring, send me to Iraq I rap like my tongue was sitting on a match You struck by lightning, frightening, gotta be a Heisman Trophy, lowkey, the one and only Slay a ho, play a ho like an oldie Yup, and I'm dope like Opi Um, so I'm out when the police Come, like a nut, I'm a nut For the bucks like a shotgun bust, and I bust Venom inside the brains of young dames Like Mr. Dash speaking to his kids on Jay-Z We running the game Y'all slipping like run in the rain Ya bitches running away from y'all to us In God we trust, at y'all we bustTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
