Текст песни
Aw man, aw, aw, aw man, damn
Young Veggies, Super 3, Solidar Creative
Ri-ri-ridin' 'round town, same old Seven steelo
Nigga couldn't change, you can blame it on my ego
Youngin started grindin', man, I did it on the D-low
Came back shinin' with that fourth-quarter free throw
Game time, nigga, even if I get the rebound
Hoes tryna figure where I be now
But that love shit is somethin' I don't see now
Lost still profound and every day it go down
My nigga's got a name now, these other niggas lame now
So I do my thing, just to bring them haters pain now
Nigga, Matt Martians told the boy to write a verse
Came in killin', ain't even need to rehearse
Swear I take it down and I make that girl disperse
And I ain't just kill it, man, I put it in a hearse
I'm back home like...
Suck it up, cock it up, time is when the clock is up
'Cause you don't have to talk for us to chop it up (Chop it up?)
Freezer burn, erection when I see you squirm
For me not to get inside your face, I'm the newest dermatologist
Blood on my shirt, no one acknowledged it
From teenage babes leavin' dates, I got to follow it
Swallow it, clean it off, polish it
Axe you up in the back of my shack, fuck some hollow tips
Throw you in my deep creek of self esteem on some shallow shit
The kids used to tease, now I'm hidin' in the leaves
Of the trees near the school where their teen daughter a teen
I grab them by the pale throat, throw them in the passenger
To balance up the color of my van, it matches egg yolk
My only fuckin' way to calm down is view of dead folk
(This movie fuckin' sucks) Because the pay-per-view is dead, ho
Now shut the fuck up and work magic with these soppy ghosts