[Intro]
4MB to the motherfuckin' grave bitch
[Chorus: Chris King]
Glock spit, pick a nigga apart
Diamonds blingin' you can see in the dark
Lean fall but I see it as art
You ain't never ever seen these niggas before
Crowded room I be feelin' alone
From the bathroom to the patio door, sip it quick, I get you out of your clothes
Fuck a girl, why yo' inventory low, I need another load
Cannon ball, until the demon run, bullets blew, can get rich with a gram, where the money go?
I pull a high fashion bitch in my bummy clothes
You and me match a deuce that's a muddy horse
She talk a lot but she let my dick stuff her throat
I'm snotty, yeah, with the runny nose
[Verse 1: Chris King]
Fire out the garage like the devil spittin' me out, yeah
Let the flames get me hot, Asparagus, the shrimp, and the lobster gettin' deep fried
Ain't no women finna love you like your mama and your G-ma
I sent a bird to Seattle and Atlanta like a Seahawk
Windows up, in a hotbox had to hit the deep fries
My bitch said I look good and better in Reebok
[?] twenties in the watch like the witness picked me out
I can count a couple thousand, but never count me out
Rappers to pussy now-a-days, nigga, meow
Dogin' all these bitches, I might just need a flea bath
(I might just need a flea bath) where the weed at?
Hit his torso, more so, heart be flat
Captain save-a-ho, I could never ever be that
Round table, my niggas and we all can agree that
Foot on they neck until they stop breathin'
4MB to the motherfuckin' grave bitch
[Chorus: Chris King]
Glock spit, pick a nigga apart
Diamonds blingin' you can see in the dark
Lean fall but I see it as art
You ain't never ever seen these niggas before
Crowded room I be feelin' alone
From the bathroom to the patio door, sip it quick, I get you out of your clothes
Fuck a girl, why yo' inventory low, I need another load
Cannon ball, until the demon run, bullets blew, can get rich with a gram, where the money go?
I pull a high fashion bitch in my bummy clothes
You and me match a deuce that's a muddy horse
She talk a lot but she let my dick stuff her throat
I'm snotty, yeah, with the runny nose
[Verse 1: Chris King]
Fire out the garage like the devil spittin' me out, yeah
Let the flames get me hot, Asparagus, the shrimp, and the lobster gettin' deep fried
Ain't no women finna love you like your mama and your G-ma
I sent a bird to Seattle and Atlanta like a Seahawk
Windows up, in a hotbox had to hit the deep fries
My bitch said I look good and better in Reebok
[?] twenties in the watch like the witness picked me out
I can count a couple thousand, but never count me out
Rappers to pussy now-a-days, nigga, meow
Dogin' all these bitches, I might just need a flea bath
(I might just need a flea bath) where the weed at?
Hit his torso, more so, heart be flat
Captain save-a-ho, I could never ever be that
Round table, my niggas and we all can agree that
Foot on they neck until they stop breathin'
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