Aiyo, where the fuck is that blunt at?
Why y'all niggas hoggin' this shit, man?
Two pulls of that shit, nigga, so I get paranoid and shit
Get the fuck—get your feet off my fuckin' table, nigga
Fuck you think, you at home? With your cheap fur on
Shit look like you 'bout to bite somethin' and shit, nigga
Yo, it was the night before he got popped
Big jars of haze, Cheech & Chong bong in the spot
Tropicana, strawberries, diced bananas, the long dookie fifth
Next to the townhouse crack, he's Madden on
2008, A G a game
I'm Ron O'Neal in the loveseat, sunk deep
Lil' niggas bustin' off they punk heat
I make a massacre, try to rob one of my donkeys
But I ain't wettin' that
I don't wanna send nobody back
Violate me, take a nap
Promise you, got somethin', Lord, that'll honor you
Blow your lil' head off while you tyin' your shoe
But back in the kitchen, Pyrexes occupied by the twins
Bank robbers with large records
Hard vests, '86 Car Guard's on
Benetton rugbies and frames like fake guns when they rob Shabon
To them, that's natural, actual
Play the squib dog, we gettin' at you
And we don't wanna rap to you
It's not kosher, it's not a code and La Costra Nostra
To roast ya, I get a lil' closer
Rock you to sleep, like I got these lil' bitches come over
Hopin' you fall for the bait, thinkin' you safe
Have that ass sweatin' like T.D. Jakes
I want the ones, nigga
You non-believers, you can ask your mama
Now that's drama
Dollar icy from papi with the scraper, Glock with the laser
Tryin' my best not to pop yet, but the drop is major
Shot my lil' cuz, I'll do my aunt a favor, watch this
I never been this itchy, hope these cops just
Get a doughnut urge and just splurge, you got the nerve to play third
In a softball tournament 'round my way, say that's your word, you bird
I'll put your beak on the curb, but anyway
Looks like a good game, the pigs ain't leavin', so I'ma lay
Nice play, just too bad it's your last
Couple bundles of D and two hundred cash, done sat you in the grass
I watch the teams line up, shake hands, guess the game's over
Faggot nigga hopped in the Liberty, fake Range Rover
I'm on his tail like Sonic, lil' shorty
Palmin' on a forty, broad day, I'm tryna dodge a cover story
Look like he stoppin' for gas, I'ma pluck him
Yay, this had to be his most unlucky lucky day
Two brothers come out 7-Eleven in army wear
And stand there, I'm actin' like my tires need air
He closed the gas cap, too many things goin' his way
So I just stashed that, y'all probably think I'm buggin', but hey
I know them games in Lindsay Park is every Sunday
He ain't goin' nowhere
I went home, switched gear, went out and grabbed me a beer
Ten drinks later, I'm at Burger King window for a Whopper
Look left and see partner, I hit the stash, flocka
Who the fuck you think you is, Ron O'Neal?
Tat-tat, what the fuck when that nine milli peel
(Is it real?) Realer than Pittsburgh steel
Yo, Ghost, pass the toast, these niggas is daffodils
Got butt-naked bitches countin' half a mil', gloves on
Fully dressed bitches watchin' them with they snubs on
While I'm in the kitchen pretendin' to be Raekwon
Watchin' Rachel Ray all day, I get my cake on
Fiends love me like a Drake song
Rep that Louboutin bottom in my back pocket all day long
Black Wall Mafia, Wu-Tang Sopranos
Niggas say they pushin' keys, but we don't see pianos
Niggas say they pushin' Phantoms, we don't see the opera
Niggas steady rockin' dreads, you ain't even Rasta
Take your New Era off and reveal
The faggot nigga you are or your cap gettin' peeled
Then we out to Brazil, I know niggas in Negril
That'll chop your fuckin' head off and throw it on a grill
Take the gold out your mouth and throw it in they grill
Send a finger to your moms and let her know that it's real
Nigga, we in the field like Chris Johnson
It's 2010, how the fuck we get six Thompsons?
Top ten, how the fuck you gon' forget Compton?
Every rapper on your list'll get they shit stomped in
I started Soo Woo, I'm the reason for that five shit
Came in the game on that fuckin' Ready to Die shit
Sold nine mil', ended up on some fly shit
Naked bitches, R&B bitches all in my Sidekick
How I be killin' the pussy should be a hate crime
Got a Blackberry, was gettin' too much FaceTime
Back to fuckin' project bitches, now I hate dimes
All they want is money, my nigga, I can't waste mine
I sun niggas like it's daytime
Grey cotton Louis sweatsuit with the Ralph Lauren waistline
Smooth as a baby's ass and I got that baby cash
Catch me in the hood, same deals Old Navy had
Motherfucker
