welcome!
That's another story, I'm no story-teller
I piss greatness, like goldish yellow
All my goons so overzealous
I'm from Hollygrove, the holy Mecca
Calendar say I got money for days
I squirm and I shake, but I'm stuck in my ways
My girlfriend will beat a bitch up if she waved
They bet' not fuck with her surfboard, surfboard
My eyes are so bright, I take cover for shade
Don't have my money? Take mothers instead
You got the hiccups, you swallowed the truth
Then I make you burp, boy, treat beef like sirloin
I'm talkin' 'bout runnin' in houses with army guns
So think about your son and daughter rooms
Got two hoes with me, messed up, they got smaller guns....