Letras
If that pistol blow
Better get low
Stir the pot with that wrist flow
I ain't scared I'm ten toes
Cook a nigga like Crisco
Wait nigga there your bitch go
Licking on my pistol
Like the referee, it's the end of the game
Ready to blow the whistle
Got K with me
Bout to turn it up
So much gas on the table
Bout to burn it up
Run to the bag
Got to earn it up
Wait till I get that Benz truck
Wait till I get that lam truck
Wait till I'm in the Britch truck
Wait to you do some funny shit
So the 45 got to blow you up
If it's game time
Then it's Dame time
Never miss when it's aim time
I'ma shoot my shot till Halftime
Bout to hang your ass on a clothesline
Dusty nigga take a bath time
Bout to call your ass a cab time
Girl you out your damn mind
Go home and get up out of mine
White tees and Nikes
You Ain't seen nothing like these
Court side like Spike Lee
For a feature it's a slight fee
White tees n Nikes
You Ain't seen nothing like these
Court side like Spike Lee
For a feature it's a slight fee
Slide thru the party
You see we get gnarly
Crank it up, Atari
(Ya Dig)
Stacking dat cheddar
You see she get wetter
See us doin better
(Ya Bitch)
No we don't hate
(Don't trip)
No we don't hate
(Don't trip)
How bout just take a sip
Just blow you some smoke and just stack ya chips
Such debauchery (Hey, hey)
You say it's a mockery (Yeah)
We really up in here
Just to get lit
Fuck nigga this not a robbery (Nah Nah)
We off that Hen, Bacardi and Ice
Don't need no advice (Nope)