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Song Info
Genre
Author
Curtisey
Rights
fuck off...
Uploaded
November 05, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.1 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
I'm that boy...
that got that noise...cock back toys...str8 combat poise...don tracks...gotta beat I'mma bomb that...gotta heat in my palm wrap...niggas in gause...fast...quick as revolves act...listen...don't get involved cat...cause I leave bitches mauled...like mannaquins...laying stiff when they all pass...that's a wake nigga...so go to sleep when the 8th get ya...you'd think the fist of an ape hit ya...big doe...cake nigga...dime hoe...brain getta...highway left lane whipper...dish cocaine...-nope...bake flipper...grams ordered...call me the transporter...running train on your grandaughter...this Rogaine...-flow...push wigs back...they call me Vin Diesel...the way I pitch black...on some Nomo shit...yeah the kids back...too deep in his prime...like 2,3 and a 5...-you don't know shit...
:hook:
learn sumthin...before I have to burn sumthin...
have your hair standing on end...like prostitutes with a perm comming...
I'm bout as ill as they get...collect bodies and staple them on my cieling to drip...
none otha...know the name nigga...
if you got that crack...-then my flow is cane nigga...
I'm that kid...
that got that piff...caught that flip...got mad ends and still rock bad timbs...he's grimey you know...won't catch me grinding on the block...cause I'll probly be inside of ya hoe...all yall halfway thugs...I'll break one of your legs...stab knives in your throat...so you halfway crip...and halfway blood...I'm not playin when I say what imma do to ya...I keep the 9 mil. aiming at your uvula...all the gun play...take it for granted...and I'll leave niggas facing the planet...catch me with an apron and hammer...baking with a spatula...sumthin like B. Auther...what I speak proper...16's tourture...leave you 6-feet partner...where seeds prosper...and thats on a good day...packs of the hoods yay...thats what grown folks sniff...stashed in the wood grain...-you don't know shit...
:hook:
I'm that bruh...
that got that puff...cock that snub...str8 drop that slug...g'head with the blaze' son...you know Curt got that hotness...and I ain't even talkin guns...walk witta nigga...cause I spark with a triggor...that could mark darts that'll split appart niggas gizzards...weight mover...tre 8 shooter...keep potatoes placed on the ruger...then rearrange your mondula...you'll know the name...cause the bark is mean...leave your heart and spleen...milked dry like coffee beans...and the cat knock these chicks...i keep a bitch on the arm...then swing pole like a hockey stick...to the game...I done changed the score...in championship...I done changed its course...under pressure...you can claim you hard...long as you close yo lips...cause the gun'll test ya...-and you don't know shit...
:hook:
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