Boy my fucking watch cost a brick
And my favorite car, the X6
Stop the fucking flexing boy you not with the shits
Point this pistol at his stomach, blow a nigga shit back
We take streets and start locking these shits
These choppa shells the same size as a Budweiser 6 pack
Got some money still tote choppas and shit
Knock knock at my door, I'm at the peep hole like who is that?
(Who the fuck is this? Who the fuck is this? Fuck is this? Who the fuck is this?)
What you need, a fucking six pack?
Knocking on my door, is you with the damn feds?
What you need a fucking 10 pack?
Give me a hundred, pussy you can get that
You say fuck Glo out your mouth, we push your fucking wig back
We got pistols in the club, fuck security, we slid that
I flow so hard, it made bulletproof shit crack
I'm Snoop Dizzle, I'm the motherfucking shiznat
I'm rolling in that Koenigsegg, the car that
All the hoes wanna give a kiss (thotty! thotty!)
I'm smoking on that piss sack
It smell like I just gone done taking a piss
You smoking on that shit pack
And it smell like you just got done taking a shit
Imma customize a SIG MAC
Cause you ain't never seen that shit
She suck my dick, I gave that bitch a tic-tac
Then told that ho to get the fuck out my shit (get out my car)
They come through gates, now we coming in the back (we in the back of that thang)
Catch yo ass barbecue you in with that (in that fucking thang)
Dear Mister Your Honor, I ain't sinning yet (your honor)
I'm just getting money I'm all in with that
He should've could've would've he boy you couldn't shit (you couldn't have been that)
It's Back From the Dead 2, I'm zombie-ing bitch
Boy my fucking watch cost a brick
And my favorite car, the X6
Stop the fucking flexing boy you not with the shits
Point this pistol at his stomach, blow a nigga shit back
We take streets and start locking these shits
These choppa shells the same size as a Budweiser 6 pack
Got some money still tote choppas and shit
Knock knock at my door, I'm at the peep hole like who is that?
Pull off coming back, turn you into a running back
Pull up in New Jersey, Mapes and Bergen nigga, slump yo ass
I'm off the Henny, and the Pepsis, Xanax, and the Thrax
In the flesh, pull up leave a nigga flat
Leave a nigga on his back, he should've fucking had his back-up
Bullets gave him a disease (to his tummy)
Now this pussy need a fucking checkup
Bullets gave his ass the hiccups
You want war? Nigga get up
I'm an artist, I paint pictures nigga, I bang nigga
Boy my fucking watch cost a brick
And my favorite car, the X6
Stop the fucking flexing boy you not with the shits
Point this pistol at his stomach, blow a nigga shit back
We take streets and start locking these shits
These choppa shells the same size as a Budweiser 6 pack
Got some money still tote choppas and shit
Knock knock at my door, I'm at the peep hole like who is that?
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
