3 Kings Jay Rock

[Hook]

Niggas talking shit when we step up in the club
It's all good 'till you get hit with a slug
Yeah he on the wall, coughing up blood
Should have known not to fuck with us thugs
Catch me in the hood, blowing on bud
Nigga, fuck your dollar man, I'm all about dubs
Catch me in the kitchen, cooking up drugs
[?] I'm all for the bubs

[Verse 1]
I'm all over the stove like pots and pans
Hit the corner with the rock, the Glocks in hand
Rock hold more shells than a taco stand
If I pop, the block hot like a summer jam
Damn, I won't hesitate, to let the pistol whistle
Bullets like many missiles, go straight through your tissue
And your momma yelling, crying sneeze into some tissue
I'm like, damn Rock, you could have worked out the issue
Really hard in the club without no bodyguards
This where OGs fresh out the penitentiary are
For those who don't know me don't pretend you're hard
Yeah that loud talking shit, that'll get you scarred
Left hook, knock your punk ass on your back
Your head busted, now it looks like the crack of her ass
Then I'm back posting up on the ave
With the homies smoking and joking, counting that cash