[Verse 1]
You sober up punk, I do it high
I'm ridin' the wave in the shotgun alive
Baby you turnin' me on and when you turnin' me off
I think you better take some lessons yeah, from Diana Ross
I'm shippin' birds with no wings all over seas
And other people cop 'em at the hottest degrees
I keep money for bail because I never liked jail
And I study A-plus student at Yale
They say, "Andre Nickatina, your emcee number seven"
Smokin' weed up in heaven, born on 3/11
Tigas and gods, liquor and bomb
I look to my path like the holy Quran
I'm shippin' birds with no wing all over seas
I put em where they never heard raps like these
I rhyme like calico cats, and two gold gats
Now what motherfucker think he fucking with that?
I be the special shish kabob on the grill with all steaks
Call me a Mac truck with no brakes
Or better yet a chef that love to bake cakes
And get into anybody in any other state
Grand wizard baby, take a look at what I done
We used to sex in your basement now I'm number one
With no desire I'm throwing gasoline on the fire
I don't like your record store if you're not a buyer
Spin cycle, it's somethin' like a wash and dry
And I be speaking to my P.O with a serious lie
You know the matador, the replicon, the guillotine
The money, the dope, homie, the triple beam
Melody's soft but is heavy as weights
We got the snottiest freaks with the sexiest face
You better poka-bang-bang a chica-chica-chill
A tumble down the hill like Jack and Jill
We say spin around broke witch, bust a ballerina
I pro blow when Mark with Marina
It's time, tiga I was bred to grind
And your zodiac sign ain't nothing to mind
Man, the killa whale of hell, yell, strikin' down bail
Wet you with the water, smack you with my tail
You sober up punk, I do it high
I'm ridin' the wave in the shotgun alive
Baby you turnin' me on and when you turnin' me off
I think you better take some lessons yeah, from Diana Ross
I'm shippin' birds with no wings all over seas
And other people cop 'em at the hottest degrees
I keep money for bail because I never liked jail
And I study A-plus student at Yale
They say, "Andre Nickatina, your emcee number seven"
Smokin' weed up in heaven, born on 3/11
Tigas and gods, liquor and bomb
I look to my path like the holy Quran
I'm shippin' birds with no wing all over seas
I put em where they never heard raps like these
I rhyme like calico cats, and two gold gats
Now what motherfucker think he fucking with that?
I be the special shish kabob on the grill with all steaks
Call me a Mac truck with no brakes
Or better yet a chef that love to bake cakes
And get into anybody in any other state
Grand wizard baby, take a look at what I done
We used to sex in your basement now I'm number one
With no desire I'm throwing gasoline on the fire
I don't like your record store if you're not a buyer
Spin cycle, it's somethin' like a wash and dry
And I be speaking to my P.O with a serious lie
You know the matador, the replicon, the guillotine
The money, the dope, homie, the triple beam
Melody's soft but is heavy as weights
We got the snottiest freaks with the sexiest face
You better poka-bang-bang a chica-chica-chill
A tumble down the hill like Jack and Jill
We say spin around broke witch, bust a ballerina
I pro blow when Mark with Marina
It's time, tiga I was bred to grind
And your zodiac sign ain't nothing to mind
Man, the killa whale of hell, yell, strikin' down bail
Wet you with the water, smack you with my tail
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