[Intro]
Weezy, what's up with it, brotha?
Tell Maestro I need to fuck over his beat real quick
Hear me?
[Hook]
I'm the best rapper under 25, 24 inches on my ride
Ball like 23 and I shot my first .22 when I was 9
[Verse 1]
That's no lie, ho
Rappers out they mothafucking minds so I gotta go
Psycho on these niggas, call me Norman Bates with a poker face
Got the banger in my hand and I'm out to poke your face
.38 Special, grab it, let him have it, where the safe, we hungry
Housing authority saved my Section 8
My section be on the west side of Compton Cali, champ
Where them killers posted on the corner like a letter stamp
Let a rapper tell me I ain't better than whoever's out
I'ma knock 'em out his Force 1's once I air 'em out
Air jets flying 'cross the atlas, I made it momma, made a promise
Married to hip hop, and the maid of honor gonna be R&B
I'm fucking her too, so please hand me my condoms
Where the honeymoon in the mother fucking booth
You're fucking right, I'm the fucking truth
I put my hand on The Bible
Swear to god if I lie, then I'll probably die tomorrow
Tell my momma don't feel sorrow, 'cause her son was a gunner
They found my corpse with a rapper's head in my stomach
I'm right here, I ain't running even if the Iraqis w-was in back of me
Back against the wall I'm clapping them rapidly y'all
Would never stop what you can't see
It's like a red light when driving with Stevie
Wonder if you can understand or withstand the blast of my wrath
I steer the game with both hands while you crash
Like Earnhardt my heart to the fallen soldiers
You can either ride, or get rolled over
Sleeping on me, I put you in a coma
So please chill out before you meet the coldest
Starving every day, see my face where the bowl is
Bowl on my face, I walk while my mouth hold it
Weezy, what's up with it, brotha?
Tell Maestro I need to fuck over his beat real quick
Hear me?
[Hook]
I'm the best rapper under 25, 24 inches on my ride
Ball like 23 and I shot my first .22 when I was 9
[Verse 1]
That's no lie, ho
Rappers out they mothafucking minds so I gotta go
Psycho on these niggas, call me Norman Bates with a poker face
Got the banger in my hand and I'm out to poke your face
.38 Special, grab it, let him have it, where the safe, we hungry
Housing authority saved my Section 8
My section be on the west side of Compton Cali, champ
Where them killers posted on the corner like a letter stamp
Let a rapper tell me I ain't better than whoever's out
I'ma knock 'em out his Force 1's once I air 'em out
Air jets flying 'cross the atlas, I made it momma, made a promise
Married to hip hop, and the maid of honor gonna be R&B
I'm fucking her too, so please hand me my condoms
Where the honeymoon in the mother fucking booth
You're fucking right, I'm the fucking truth
I put my hand on The Bible
Swear to god if I lie, then I'll probably die tomorrow
Tell my momma don't feel sorrow, 'cause her son was a gunner
They found my corpse with a rapper's head in my stomach
I'm right here, I ain't running even if the Iraqis w-was in back of me
Back against the wall I'm clapping them rapidly y'all
Would never stop what you can't see
It's like a red light when driving with Stevie
Wonder if you can understand or withstand the blast of my wrath
I steer the game with both hands while you crash
Like Earnhardt my heart to the fallen soldiers
You can either ride, or get rolled over
Sleeping on me, I put you in a coma
So please chill out before you meet the coldest
Starving every day, see my face where the bowl is
Bowl on my face, I walk while my mouth hold it
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!