New word, onomateopoeia, boom
Quit actin’ like you don’t wanna be here
Fuck around and get jumped like leap year
Glock and a glove make you
Really wanna leave me a-lone
Get the fuck on, go’n
Okay, okay, okay, back to the happy songs
Rap ain’t nothin’ but an auto-talkin’ shit
My girl look pretty up there ridin’ dick
My plaid past, my solid future
Astronaut ass and a gorgeous coochie
I’m an outcast, but you’re into me
Summer got mad ’cause winter blew me
That Juicy Fruit, that splooshie-sploosh
Generation X on bloop-de-bloop
Get duked out, or get dookie-duked
Er’rybody hit the floor, we through the roof
Like a chimney, now come in me
How come it be? Some lame man
Nigga talkin’ ’bout “Aw, he don’t rap enough”
But y’all rap a lot and I’m like “Wrap it up, hoe”
Ye ain’t Scarface, ye ain’t Willie D
Ye ain’t Bushwick, ye ain’t killin’ me
Better play with ya ma’fuckin’ mama
Betcha still stay witcha ma’fuckin’ mama
Keep sleepin’ on me, I’ma rock my pajamas
In the daytime, I swear, I promise
Dare a nigga say somethin’, tear a nigga face off
How come blacks don’t play baseball?
Y’all white, know y’all can taste
All this fly shit
I stay finna take off