Lyrics

A shooting pistol A milli really tell me whats the issue Foes we running through em Soft like they made of tissue It aint a issue longs we get them big bills Homie im the big deal Horny make ya chick feel You know the deal My niggaz tell you i been the best Your boy well connected like you surfing the internet Hometown asking em How do i do this If it wasnt for this here With no purpose you useless So push hard Rid of work on the strip fast Doing all the pitching More assists than kid has They say i do this rap thing to try to get rich Thats true but trying to do more Than put ice on the wrist so holla Take this game Ima cook up the thing Now killing it get with the program Gotta bully this kid Your boy right handed But put in work with the left hand For that cash do more stretching out than wristband When theres beef know im ready to cock mine While looking for a deal Put your name on the dotted line Look homie got a lotta lines The game just start running it Like dizzy dean aint bragging if you done it Punk listen He front the pump will lift em Been ill arms cocked throwing em windmills You got work I want half dont care if its too much If its a problem Then i tell em is we beefing or what Your girl need a helping hand Might give her a holla If i dig her broads get to clearing out like a team roster Busy man god dealt me this wicked hand When letting off the shots fired Sink in like quicksand A shooting pistol A milli really tell me whats the issue Foes we running through em Soft like they made of tissue It aint a issue longs we get them big bills Homie im the big deal Horny make ya chick feel Go retarded youngin this a house party Got the homies here want beef then we can get it started Get to balling Amounts of cash big im on it If its a race shake and bake Do the ricky bobby Need to give it a rest Bars dope raw like that coke Tucked up under your girl breast Step to me dog it aint even worth it Leaving you broke That ass need more help than a temp service You twenty pound dumbbells So get to lifting em Colors get to fading like cars with dark tints on em Niggaz in the game Team up im yall problem This a harvest Get to picking need a new target Your boy here been ready spit You try to walk in my shoes Get put in a ditch You small time and me Im talking big business When you rap it sound sort of like a bitch singing Man im a certified convict Been hot since my first sixteen You hardly put time in By the years end Going to see what im worth It sucks not to be on top I know the feeling it hurts So you put out that hard this lick man Quick them knees buckling How you walk with no limbs man The game mine long term ima stretch it You niggaz couldnt take over If i left like jay left it Them goons quick to put your sneaks on lean For that bread Yes he going lean so lean Bring it to a bastard who want it And save them threats Cause look dog i dont care who you run with A shooting pistol A milli really tell me whats the issue Foes we running through em Soft like they made of tissue It aint a issue longs we get them big bills Homie im the big deal Horny make ya chick feel Go retarded youngin this a house party Got the homies here want beef then we can get it started Get to balling Amounts of cash big im on it If its a race shake and bake Do the ricky bobby
Writer(s): Wilbert Robinson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out