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Aye Gang five deep, splash around like the Great Lakes Why you uppin' funny money? Why you thumbin' fake pape'? (Helluva made this beat, baby) Dude that got a CO2 tank, why the fuck you tottin' fake Drac'? Shoppin' off of olibobble, why you rockin' fake Bape? K Roll, K Roll, you sippin' fake drank Oh, okay, I see what's goin' on, boy, you fake-fake I just made some real pape' with a fake name Tryna act like BabyTron, like, oh, okay, you fake James Eatin' off the banks but I'll stop to take a stank break Amiris with the bandanas, lookin' like I gangbang What's that one saying? Sit your five dollar ass down before I make change No fakin' 201, plug on Telegram, he speak Croatian Looking for his badge number, heard he givin' infomation Huh, congrats Huh Congrats, congrats, you just played yo' self, hang yo' self You should take the switch, turn it on and go and spank yo' self Yappin' like the head huncho, must've went and ranked yo' self Wrestlin' with the monkey on my back, I'm tryna win the title Preachin' in the booth, you would've thought these verses in the Bible You would think she Pocahontas, lil' bitch, she givin' tribal Zero losses on my record, Scottie Pippen in the finals Letras de cancionesBR1 and 2 on wax, come and get a vinyl Everytime I throw a touchdown that bitch a spiral Treat these hoes like water bottles how they get recycled I've been travellin' all week, this my sixth arrival Bitch head fire, my shoes got blew off Ridin' with that "fah-fah-fah-", let's have a shoot off That one shit'll turn your TT into Rudolph I know you read the shirt, shit, it's hard to cut root off He was grabbin' on the blick but didn't bust and gave it blue balls In middle school, I was driftin' salmon to the blue hall Man, I really hate it when your boo call 'Cause that's the type of shit that really piss my boo off Street ballin', shit, it's time to cut the rules off Poured a deuce of that juice, I'm finna snooze off Talkin' for no reason, I'm just thinkin', "Who's dawg?" Get him outta here, point him to the door When it's time for a skit, I'm gon' point him to the floor Naw! I ain't pointin' at you, bro The bitches 'round you kinda cute, I'm only pointin' at the hoes I can't take her 'round a trip, she get annoyin' on the road That, [*sniff*], 'll destroy a junkie's nose If your stache matched your height, you would be on Muggsy Bogues Shit, my pockets paralyzed, but, huh, yeah Shit, my pockets paralyzed, I walk around with bloody toes Told you that the Quagen break loose while I had a bloody nose And elbow, a joke's up, you think I'm smokin' funny bone Got Haribo flavors with these hoes, I give 'em gummy dough Chopper knocked the hair up off him, Kobe eight to twenty-four, like, tch Ain't it twenty-eight to one? Or like, fifty to six? Catch him outta town, you'd probably steal some Jimmy with blick The way the junkies returnin', you'd think the rizzie the mix Skiied up in Philli', motherfucker thought I was Quan Motherfucker thought that I was Quammy doin' all this juggin' Doin' all this goddamn scammin', all this damn hammin' Asked if it's designer, don't you feel the goddamn fabric? Bro a demon, shit, he swears to Satan Why you sellin' pints of green? They only cost a pair of Asics If you had the sauce like I, you'd probably have to wear an apron In interrogation with a agent who look like Sarah Palin Got a thing for them lightskined curly hair with braces I can't help it, huh Team player, I ain't selfish Deez nuts, booga-wooga-wooga From Letras Mania