[Sheek Louch:] Yeah, Poobs whattup nigga? Sheek Louch, new album comin son, _After Taxes_ [tires squealing] Fucked up
Aiyyo, fuck that nigga, send him to the funeral home Let a couple of them hot things sit in his dome Let his family stand over him singin a poem When I pull out and I bust my chrome Girl or boy, I put it your neck like Troy And I don't let bums beat me, I'm not like Roy I'm a cut somethin off of your bitch-ass Nice and easy, I'ma get the beef over quick fast You muh'fuckin right, it's goin down tonight And I'm stressed, yo Poobs let me get the vest Graveyard, I ain't workin with a lot of rest Just crack addicts and mathematics And I don't mean science or One World Alliance Sheek use the iron like a household appliance I'm the hardest nigga, I don't need a major I can go indie like The Artist nigga And get paper out the ass Throw the deal in the bag and drive the red GT out the glass Hood all smashed, diesel and hash Itchy trigger finger, I'm startin to get a rash Y'all can fuck off, or bust that off Your little-ass guns 'bout as loud as a cough Sheek Louch spit for them niggaz up North Shank wavin, misbehavin Two treys blowin powder for the shit they blazin Two AK's 'n, one revolver I've been workin at hustlin as long as your father Y'all lil' niggaz don't even bother You ain't got no juice; you like a cell phone without the charger I don't come half-assed I come home with a big bag of jewelry, other half cash Mean whiplash, plenty of horses Fuck it if I crash, I take my losses Sheek Louch nigga, accounts got bigger But I ain't gon' retire, no disrespect Jigga I'ma keep flowin 'til there's no more dough Or I'm sick in the bed and my voicebox go Motherfucker! YEAH! {Whatdja do that for?}Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
