Yo, we gon do it like this
Straight out the parts. . . that they disregard
Never considered . . . ok
[Verse 1]
Now don't get mad, nigga get glad
Goodie got them brand new trash bags . . dag
And they know where to dump that ass
In the Cha-tahoochie
River with the rest of the kids
That did business outside la familias
Gettin ya touched
Diamond cut
Blunts roastin whole through tea bags
Blowin bubbles out the wrong end
Mud in your stool piles
Flamin hotter than Death Valley
The gateway to where ever your sick tickle desire
The gangsters of this other century
Transforming hustlers and players into sissies
So slim goodie
You don't want no drug boy
He'll leave you barefooted and pregnant
Don't get too comfortable
You ain't gon be here too long
G's get locked up and die (clean)
Most lie in they own cell home
Trust the tree on the map
This one individual thought he was the Grim Reaper
Swore, couldn't nobody put a finger on his naps
Now he up under the bridge stankin
In his birthday suit
Used to always holler about how he was gon do a brother (get him!)
Beat him to the punch-line, one time
Being forced into early retirement at the age of 26
Palms feel like bricks - peeling from distributing crack
Crumb snatchers and goo-gobblers struggle
To stay on top of sand dunes
Some mouths born with silver spoons
Straight out the parts. . . that they disregard
Never considered . . . ok
[Verse 1]
Now don't get mad, nigga get glad
Goodie got them brand new trash bags . . dag
And they know where to dump that ass
In the Cha-tahoochie
River with the rest of the kids
That did business outside la familias
Gettin ya touched
Diamond cut
Blunts roastin whole through tea bags
Blowin bubbles out the wrong end
Mud in your stool piles
Flamin hotter than Death Valley
The gateway to where ever your sick tickle desire
The gangsters of this other century
Transforming hustlers and players into sissies
So slim goodie
You don't want no drug boy
He'll leave you barefooted and pregnant
Don't get too comfortable
You ain't gon be here too long
G's get locked up and die (clean)
Most lie in they own cell home
Trust the tree on the map
This one individual thought he was the Grim Reaper
Swore, couldn't nobody put a finger on his naps
Now he up under the bridge stankin
In his birthday suit
Used to always holler about how he was gon do a brother (get him!)
Beat him to the punch-line, one time
Being forced into early retirement at the age of 26
Palms feel like bricks - peeling from distributing crack
Crumb snatchers and goo-gobblers struggle
To stay on top of sand dunes
Some mouths born with silver spoons
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!