Lyrics
This for my brothers wearin Asics
Putting miles on these tracks
Your girl gon need some lasics
Running laps on you hoes
Pull up shootin lame bricks
Buns in the oven
This a different type of cake mix
Connected like webs but he's never getting any grace
Bubbles in his mouth leave him dead like his shit was laced
Giving you a slow burn we moving at a different pace
Don't make me snap again cuz it's time
Another happy race
Had to cut a bitch off yeah I'm talking cold turkey
Her boyfriend was suprised when his girl sucked me like a Slurpee
Poppin perc 30's while sippin something so dirty
Pale white eyes this bitch she had her momma so worried (girl get home)
Blacked out bitches whippin beemers all over 94
Her boyfriend was pissed off yellin his girl was such a fucking whore
Shut the fuck up ain't gotta talk no more
I'll fuck your bitch real good then gobble down a Wendy's 4 for 4
(Damn that's a good deal)
Crackers, rapping, thinking they got it out the fucking mud
Gotta kick him in the fucking nuts til they start pissing blood
Fat bitches and whippets is what I really love
Bill Belichick I need some neck and a rub'n'tug
Off with his head
I pistol whip you with the MAC-11
Strapped like I'm Dredd
Coulda copped the Louie I want Dior instead
Coulda made a movie with that bitch but she just too choosy
More choppers than Call of Duty
Kill your ass you family sue me
Want a verse you gotta prove it
Fuck with me and you gon lose it
Loading guns is therapeutic
Diamonds shine like Stanley Kubrik
(Ah)
(Alright let's keep movin)
You flew too close to the sun
Hear the choppers you run
Heard you stay on West side but you ain't got no gun
Bastard like your girl might just slide in her buns
Ice my neck out with them pearls I do it for fun
Uh
I'm a bad kid I talk in the back of the class
I'm a bad kid I find an insecure wound then I stab
Grab the throat then I slap you right across the face
Was it no obvious 1080 run this place (okay)
That really isn't me though
Let these shooters D-Lo
At the free throw pussy you got zero
Seconds to waste, lake on the chase, uh let's go get it
Leave it to me, passenger seat, why is that boy sprintin
Writer(s): Nate Schneiderhan
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