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You're doubled up While them younger sluts play double dutch My new Mac 11 came with the muzzle on the front Nigga this ain't a front My taste buds trump your flavor of the month Rappers can't fuck with me you can't name one I paid a lump, the table spun I dip my blunt in angel dust The gauge pump, turn your brain to mush The slug'll make your potato bust It match what that Draco does Give you a halo, while i'm sniffin' yayo off of J-Lo butt It made a playa face go numb Beefin' with me and mine'll lead to E.Coli You're not bonafide, them hoes I just bone and slide I had a moment, sky open You not potent, ibuprofen This is heroin that brown, not that yellow shit they steppin' all over it If you look close you can see the Louis loafer print Some nigga put his toes in this shit No shit, it's over wit' Ho this is showmanship Shootouts with foes, yo lord hold up, I think my shoulder hit Think I'm hit nigga, shit Say word, you caught one lord? Let me see Letras de cancionesThat's a shoulder wound my nigga, shit went straight through, you good Let's go Get back Don't think you can't get cleared at where you livin' at Fast, I put a nigga in a trick bag And send you to yo' momma gift-wrapped That's where I'm at, we gon' kill your ass How real is that? How real is that? Get 'em back Feast or famine I'm by the sea tannin' Female companion speaking Mandarin You get a glimpse of me the freaks is clamorin' I'm in Miami wearing your rent on a pair of kicks And that depend on where you live I'm thinking somewhere near the Calvin Klein underwear heir Fresh to death, they thought a nigga slept in Tupperware This the upper tier, this for the puppeteers Run your career with just the muscles in my hand Might even push your shit back but I don't cut hair Peel with the toast, melt just like a fucking butter square You ain't nothing but a square you bum You just here sucking up air My right hand steer like Duh Duh Man I'm good money, lil' buddy I'm no Huggie Bear I have you in Huggies just like the ones a pet monkey wear Fuck outta here You a college kid, we share no common thread This shit Prada not Doma brand I'm just sayin' No disrespect, this shit just cost a lot of bread I'm on your head Get back Don't think you can't get cleared at where you livin' at Fast, I put a nigga in a trick bag And send you to yo' momma gift-wrapped That's where I'm at, we gon' kill your ass How real is that? How real is that? Get 'em back From Letras Mania