[Verse One]
Guess who's the man this winter, straight out the land of sinners
The Range is tan with spinners, check out the white mirrors
Blow with the damn winners while you and your man's finished
Two in your Rams fitteds, turn off your lightswitch
Holdin my torch down, even when the force 'round
You let your wife roam, she want a divorce now
You niggas ain't this gully, play it I paint your skully
You never take this from me the riders and all the gangsters love me
You shouldn't be a problem, I ain't be a problem
See you later I'll red your head, you'll be a Rodman
I know your type, hoppin all over beat screamin
You call it hypin yourself up, I call it street dreamin
I do it for all the haters, the players roll with the gators
They lookin forward to favors, gossip is all they gave us
You niggas wasn't quiet, meet the whales and the fishes
You leak the precinct up, play tattletale with the snitches
Even my momma knows, I got all kind of hoes
They wait outside of shows strict after the diner close
I'll get designer clothes, without the wine or rose
Take off my baby blue mink, and Carolina vogues
Come here, take a look inside a entertainer's closet
I never trust a bitch, I blame Lorena Bobbitt
Niggas stay in pocket, I know you're mad at me
But shit ain't all peaches and cream, and I ain't Sara Lee
Bitch!
Guess who's the man this winter, straight out the land of sinners
The Range is tan with spinners, check out the white mirrors
Blow with the damn winners while you and your man's finished
Two in your Rams fitteds, turn off your lightswitch
Holdin my torch down, even when the force 'round
You let your wife roam, she want a divorce now
You niggas ain't this gully, play it I paint your skully
You never take this from me the riders and all the gangsters love me
You shouldn't be a problem, I ain't be a problem
See you later I'll red your head, you'll be a Rodman
I know your type, hoppin all over beat screamin
You call it hypin yourself up, I call it street dreamin
I do it for all the haters, the players roll with the gators
They lookin forward to favors, gossip is all they gave us
You niggas wasn't quiet, meet the whales and the fishes
You leak the precinct up, play tattletale with the snitches
Even my momma knows, I got all kind of hoes
They wait outside of shows strict after the diner close
I'll get designer clothes, without the wine or rose
Take off my baby blue mink, and Carolina vogues
Come here, take a look inside a entertainer's closet
I never trust a bitch, I blame Lorena Bobbitt
Niggas stay in pocket, I know you're mad at me
But shit ain't all peaches and cream, and I ain't Sara Lee
Bitch!
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