JR Writer Album

[J.R. Talks]
Uhh, Chea. I done climbed from up under the rock (uhh huh)
Did my hundred miles and runnin
Got through rain, sleet, snow, hail (Chea)

[Verse]
Yo listen scrap, zip ya trap, You lookin at a honorary (Diplomat)
I did this crap from chicken scraps (whoa)
I remember back flippin packs, mixin crack when (Diplomat)
Wasn't even on my mind (mind)
Fine rewind time when a G was on the grind and a (Diplomat)
Wasn't there feedin me a dime (o.k.)
Had to sit in the storm at six in the morn I been a (Diplomat)
Ever since a nigga was born mars (lets go)
I battled the best, dazzled the rest to be a (Diplomat)
I done had to tackle some vets
Yes, now it's true indeed who is he (who's he) I got Diplomatic Immunity (uhh)
What can y'all do to me (what)
I wasn't given a set, I had to give 'em my best
They ain't just give me respect or ship me a check (stupid)
It had a nigga in stress (why) cause Juelz just got signed (uhh huh)
And you know Jimmy was next, so (what)
In the mean time I was mobbin the streets (o.k.)
Any cat come through getting robbed for his sneaks
Shit I ain't have a dollar to eat (so what)
So I got mad and sat on the phone for two hours with Zeke
Like you don't know man I'm struggling (struggling)
What y'all ain't feelin J (y'all ain't feelin me)
Whattup with Killa (Killa) man I got bills to pay (word)
And I'm tryin to avoid jail, trippin homes
Hit his phone and it keep goin to the voicemail
Zeke like relax, don't let it get to ya brain
I know the shit seem insane but we done been through the same mang
We ain't just land in the burbs, we had to scramble and swerve
You know Cam is a man of his word, word (word)
That's when I had to get my hand on a bird
Call my cousin Nino up, go handle some herb
It got dumb ugly, son trust me (trust me)
Off the stoop, fuck the coupe shit the hoop small enough to be a punch buggy
Those were the bad days (days) all in the gat play (blat)
Car filthy, like we use the floor as a ash trey
We ain't give a shit in the lane (no) like the whip was a Range
On top of that we was sick of the train ay (what)
We used to sit in the rain (rain)
My vision is vivid, dig it I lived it, nigga picture this pain mang (picture it)
Way before we ever murdered it and brought a whip
We used to have to walk from 30th to 45th (whoa)
Sit on a stoop, sick with no loot (sick)
On my rap shit when I had to get up with Gucc
For a battle or a sypher I'm compatible to lifers
Had to battle and to dazzle, ain't a cat you know that's nicer (whooo)
That was battling for loot, battle for ya boots
One or two cats got easy, started battles by the groups (I'm right here)
Had to think like these battles still gon' have me on the stoop
So I said while you battle I'll be passin by in coupes (eert)
Now I style in the slums, Italian Air Ones (whoa)
Yellin holla back hater (hater) the album is done (done)
Two hundred out the gates (two hundred) two hundred in ya face (two hundred)
Platinum plaques on Koch (uhh huh) true stuntin on you snakes
Just rollin on some cake, I could show you what it takes to be a (Diplomat)

[J.R. Talks]
Come holla at me man

Y'all want to live my life
Y'all just can't live my life
Y'all want to live my life
Y'all just ain't fit to live my life

[Verse 1]
Since a youngin a lesson was told (told) was never to fold (fold)
Shit I started rappin around 11 years old
I was destined to blow (and what) and unlikely to fade
Copped me a pen and pad (and what) see my life in the page (page)
Nobody seen my vision (vision) they thought I'd be in prison (prison)
They though I'd be in prison for movin keys of ism (nope)
But as you see I didn't I just succeeded, listen
Now they watch when they spot every V I sit in (eert)
Let me stick to the plot (plot) since a kid I would watch (and what)
My favorite channel was the music video box (uhh huh)
Daddy Kane, Rahkim, every hit he would drop (who else)
Flu Dog, Wu Tang, down to Biggie and Pac (Pac)
I inherited charm (charm) but in a house hardly (why)
Cause was beggin my moms (for what) to hit the house party
Shit to dance, not a chance I was in there for that (that)
I was highly inspired (by what) just hearin 'em rap (rap)
They would crowd the mic (and what) and indeed get it crackin (crackin)
Of course I was too short to see who was rappin
I ain't bother to speak, just startled by heat (heat)
Listen to all of the words (and what) and nodded to beats
That's when I decided (to what) that that was my goal (goal)
To rap and to flow (flow) my tracks to be sold (ohh)
All across the country (country) for the coast of money (cha chaing)
Until the life the dreams or the lost and hungry

[Hook]
This a movement you see, all this movin you see
Basically this is more than just music to me
This is tears and sweat, for the tears I sweat
Every year I stretched I won't dare forget
This a movement you see, all this movin you see
Basically this is more than just music to me
This is tears and sweat, for the tears I sweat
Every year I stretched I won't dare forget
Y'all want to live my life
Y'all just can't live my life
Y'all want to live my life
Y'all just ain't fit to live my life

[Verse 2]
I was likely fixen to pop and the ciphers with a bop
13 felt like one of the nicest kids to drop
More practice I done made, the more nicer that I got
People loved me, I end up ghost writin for the block (I remember that)
Mama said I was a fool (fool) and I wasn't cool (why)
Cause round 14 shit I done dropped out of school (whoa)
Yeah that was my past (past) broke, rap was my cast (cast)
Getting caught writin rhymes in the back of the class (uhh huh)
I was trifling to all (all) I hit Dykeman for raw (raw)
Shot 5 with the students (students) rolled dice in the halls
They said dude take a T-O (why) almost caught with a kilo (kilo)
Principal threatened me (uhh huh) hey I'm callin ya P.O. (fuck outta here)
So drop out is what I had to do
Ciphered up the block (block) and battled on the avenue
Ran up on cats like faggot I will battle you
Battle what he babbled and I had him by a rap or two

[Hook]

[Intro:]
Uhh see man (what)
What you muh'fuckers fail to realize is (what's that?)
I am that nigga (true)
And ain't shit you could do about that, ya underdig?
Uhh, yeah

[Verse 1:]
I'm a hooligan hater, but I move like a player
Take a look up in my closet (look) every shoe'll be gator
Have your baby mother drillin, out the coupe when I slay her
You couldn't get the bitch to tip if you was a waiter
You aint marketable, why argue wit'chu
I'm in the Maybach tryin to find parkin for two
Who? The God of this breddren, the weapon
You ain't seein numbers, your career is on *67
Your track list is crackless, I use it as a ash kit
Like hold up, yeah, flick ya ashes on this whack shit
This ain't that piff, homie I will finish ya
Black suits, black cars, hoe I'm like the senator
Or kinda similar, plus ask the DJ's
I put out fire, like I'm holdin an extinguisher
New shit every week, new piff, very heat
I'll show you how to do this, your music is very sweet

[Hook:]
I mastered this, you're average, nigga you should take notes
You bastards sick, I'm back with piff, but nigga you should take notes
I'll show you how to stack your chips, most of y'all are straight broke
I mastered this, what crack you spit, nigga you should take notes
You ain't gotta jack my shit, I'll show you how to bake coke
Turn it to a half a brick, make the game chain smoke
Find a town, stack ya chips, cause most of y'all are straight broke
I mastered this, you're average, nigga you should take notes

[Verse 2:]
The law watch him, I'm car droppin, you hard toppin
These player haters can't stand to see J.R. poppin
But the star's boxin, how I get 'em off me
with left jabs, fag, call me Bernard Hopkins
The heat of the night, they heated I'm nice
Sleeped in my Nikes, with not a damn crease in my whites
While you sucker-for-lovers make a freak off ya wife
And throw cuffs on her like you 'bout to read her her rights, right
I'm hard as fuck, you target ducks, you ain't spittin hard enough
Listen here mami, tsunami couldn't wash me up
Child's a pro, my style is whoa, verse is wow, hurt 'em how
Homey I am versatile, you lookin at a talent show
So, get used to the, hot bars movin ya
Loosin ya I'm Lucifer, sittin on Jupiter
Listen this is proof, prick you are a fluke
I got this wrapped up, it's useless for you to get in the booth
Holla

[Hook]

Don't stop, grill em (grill em) don't stop, grill em (grill em)
Don't stop, grill em (grill em) don't stop, grill em (grill em)
Don't stop, grill em (grill em) don't stop, grill em
Grill em, grill em, don't stop
This that get em sound, this that get it down (down)
This that two step we don't shake or spin around (no)
This that pick a clown size em up try ya luck
Playa hate, grill em down, let me see you twist ya frown

[Verse 1:]
This that hard for real, off the charts my nillz
Soon as you get to the lot ock (what) start to grill
Show that mark a deal and you got the heart of steel
Scared a clown stare em down while the nigga park his wheels (do it)
Then head to the club to show em you a party wrecker (wrecker)
Grill the bouncer cause he tryin to charge you extra (charge me extra)
But next minute he letting in a mob of heffers (what)
And wanna give you a hastle at that Don detecter
Search and pat ya where, like a fag and queer (queer)
Give that fag a stare have that little cracker scared (scared)
If he talking bout you can't wear ya hat in here
And that shit match ya gear (grill em, grill em)
This aint made for playas in the club waving paper (nope)
This is for those stone cold playa haters
Who just playa hate, spot the spot, place the place
And quick to lay a scrape or scuff in ya bathing apes (ohh)
See I be on my D-I-P
Cut you off while you dancing with that P-Y-T (come here)
Grill a bartender cause he wanna see I.D.
And they won't let you in that damn V.I.P. Grill em

[Hook:]
This that get em sound, this that get it down (down)
This that two step we don't shake or spin around (no)
This that pick a clown size em up try ya luck
Playa hate, grill em down, let me see you twist ya frown
Don't stop, grill em (grill em) don't stop, grill em (grill em)
Don't stop, grill em (grill em) don't stop, grill em (grill em)
Don't stop, grill em (grill em) don't stop, grill em
Grill em, grill em, don't stop

[Verse 2:]
This that mobster shit (right) this Tupacalypse (right)
This that get in the club bub and pop some shit (huh)
This that I'm here right yeah watch ya bitch
He got, I aint got, hate on em cause he rockin it
What this nigga think (grill em) we don't feel this chimp (grill em)
I don't feel this chimp (grill em) we got bigger nth's (grill em)
(Grill em, grill em) if he dipped in mink (what)
We goin wild and push the crowd till he spill his drink (do it)
Relax you better scrap (scrap) look I keep the piece (uhh huh)
We ain't tryin to keep the peace you can go ahead with that (go head)
We got desserts macs that'll leave you dead and flat
Fat to skinny, small to tall, dogs Spud Webber Shaq (whatever)
Act and get stupid, scrappy lets do it
Hands up if the DJ put the scratch to ya music
Erratic and lose it (lose it) ohh no whoa yo
Go low and throw bows faster than Cupid (hey)
That's what a thug about (bout) that's what thuggin bout (bout)
So that slouch you's a bad mother (shut your mouth)
They thought it was over till you let the bluccas sprout
Clapped a few slugs for shouts after the club get out

[Hook]

[No lyrics]

[No lyrics]

(feat. Jim Jones & Hell Rell)

[Hook:]
It's the Dips, we can't fall off we are sick
And keep ridin till the wheels fall off of this bitch
Salute, Wooo Wooo, Wooo Wooo
Wooo Wooo, Wooo Wooo
If you get money like ain't shit funny
And quick to tell a bitch she ain't getting shit from me
Holla back, Wooo Wooo, Wooo Wooo
Wooo Wooo, Wooo Wooo

[J.R. Talks:]
Ok, Writer, (DipSet) Who ready?

[Verse 1:]
Listen, This is natural, we're not compatible
A hustler not a rapper dude, don't make me have to clap a few
Wrap ya dude, Blat ya through
Nigga, fuck a stash box, I got a box in the stash for you
You aint a Goonie, yous a Looney Tooney
I will use this Uzi to remove ya kufi
Troops salute me, dude ya fruity
Who's a groupie, and lucky that my shoes are Gucci (why)
Cause I stomp creeps, I'm beyond beats
Big war guns, check out my arm reach
I'll get ya moms leaked (where) stretch out in Palm Beach
Iffy till I put you underground then its concrete
You stepping up there them hecklers'll flare
Peter Rowe leave ya soul in a breathe full of air
No body better this year (why)
I'm in the zone, and it's like you goin bald, cause you'll never get here/hair

[Hook]

[Jim Jones: Talks]
Wooo (Jones) Wooo Wooo Wooo Wooo (Capo) (One-Eyed Willy)

[Verse 2: Jim Jones]
One-Eyed Willy, head of the Goonie-Goo-Goos (Capo)
I'll put paper on ya head just like a su-su
Blowin haze in the air out the moon roof
While I'm racing, switchin gears in the new coupe
So its nothing to 10-90
Peter Rowe you hop in the Benz do 90
I'll cop a new bed buck 90 (ballin)
I'm on the block getting bent's where you find me
I'm probably spittin out punka seeds
40's off Autobahn tell black dump the weed (we gotta get high)
It's 600 for my Dungarees
I'm on the corner getting blunted with a bunch of G's (Eastside)
So ya life's but a bleep away
Well I party at night where the Heat play (down in Miami)
Until the cops sub do me (fuck it)
I'm claimin DipSet ByrdGang we the Goonies (we the Goonies)

[Hook]

[Hell Rell Talks]
Ok, Ruger Rell DipSet, (I got us Writer) I got us, Yo

[Verse 3: Hell Rell]
I'm the shit Mr. Doodoo, I'll holla wooo wooo
Hundred niggaz hop out hoodied up like boom boom
I got Goons on the payroll shorty
And I don't tough shit, they move the yayo for me (they move that shit)
Money machines count the pesos for me
Shit on my neck, that's Range Rove money
My jewelry starting to add up to cars my brother
Magnum on one wrist, Charger on the other
When I die my house gonna be a tourist attraction
You serious that's the same chair Hell Rell sat in (you serious)
You lyin, that's the same toilet Hell Rell crapped in (na you lyin)
Mink carpets and he got it from rappin, ruger double action
You wanna learn about some cain nigga talk to me
You wanna know who own the city cruise New York wit me (DipSet)
I bring the grittiest out (yeah)
And if Rell in the building all the Goonies in the city come out (yeah)

[Hook]

[No lyrics]

[No lyrics]

(feat. Cam'Ron)

[Intro: Cam'Ron]
yo JR?, they've been waitin' for you dawg, they've been asking
you ready? Dipset, Lets Go, Writer

[HOOK: JR Writer]
To all my hustlers, rock smugglers, stugglers
block bubblers, pushers, cookers' pot jugglers
Whats the word y'all, Flip that herb raw
Clap, (clap clap) thats the bird-call

If the cops are comin', get to hop n' runnin'
Quick and drop that onion, ain't no stoppin' young'un
Put away that herb raw, let'us know the word whore
Clap, (clap clap) thats the bird-call

[JR Writer]
i still be where the weed flip, and the peas with the trees lit
so much water in the order, its just leaving them sea sick
but its me in my V6, trying to skeet on her bead lips
they dont know, like im trying to keep her a secret
act wrong, chrome, passin me dome
next minute, shit im finished, she'll be flaggin' it home
but i always keep a straggler, thats known to bone
and run through a lap, faster than marion jones
man listen, i still got them grams flippin tan pitchen, corner to the damn kitchen
gained a couple fans having made the transition
but im still in the hood like a transmission
no cat can match me, i'm passin fastly who half as nasty
i got it locked from here, all the way to cackalacky
but keep a mac for scrapping, thinkin' its just laffy taffy
shit this beat dun be the only thing clappin' at me

[HOOK:]
To all my hustlers, rock smugglers, stugglers
block bubblers, pushers, cookers' pot jugglers
Whats the word y'all, Flip that herb raw
Clap, (clap clap) thats the bird-call

If the cops are comin', get to hop n' runnin'
Quick and drop that onion, ain't no stoppin' young'un
Put away that herb raw, let'us know the word whore
Clap, (clap clap) thats the bird-call

[Cam'Ron:]
(Cam, dash, hoffa)
Damn, Homie
In high school you was the man homie
thats what a fan told me (shhhit)
same old cat, get his Kangol clapped
brains blown back, this is dame, but dame dont rap
shame on black, the game's so whack
dame sunk some children
from in front of yo buildin' straight to a hudred million
bad pimpin pimpin', bad actin' dawgy
getcha limp on pimpin', if they actin' froggy
tell'em back up off me, i come down clappin forty
pow thats a badder story, not in my category
mess around, dame held def jam down
supporting my back, jackin' and they left their pounds
red-neck found, tech tech pound
duck duck goose, pump pump shoot, shoot lets get down
it may seem petty, but we all turn mean deadly
for green-fetti, my whole team ready

[HOOK:]
To all my hustlers, rock smugglers, stugglers
block bubblers, pushers, cookers' pot jugglers
Whats the word y'all, Flip that herb raw
Clap, (clap clap) thats the bird-call

If the cops are comin', get to hop n' runnin'
Quick and drop that onion, ain't no stoppin' young'un
Put away that herb raw, let'us know the word whore
Clap, (clap clap) thats the bird-call

[Exit Verse: JR Writer]
this ain't only bars and tracks, this is for the hardest cats
flippin all the harder back, make them catch a heart attack
when you see the narcs attack lemme know, start to clap, clap ,clap
but start with he deals, your pa be on chill
the car is DeVille, is real ill
heart in the grill its far in my mills
Cruise the city with the semi or the celly
on skinnies like i'm starving my wheels

[No lyrics]

[No lyrics]

[scratched: "J.R. Writer"]

[Intro:]
Uhh, Grease, a fuckin animal man
I belong in the zoo with the rest of 'em
J.R. Writer, DipSet let's do it man, yo

[Verse 1:]
My mathematics smash it, I bag it pack it
A packer's pass to the crackers, the bastard's actin erratic
A static half of a savage to have it back in they cabbage is 'matic
After they had it and add it, back to the attic - faggot
Ask I'm the baddest of baddest, gather your baddest of rampers
Scrampers to clampers don't matter, half of them bastards I'll splatter
Cap in his bladder, you'll stagger, mac to a 'matic he's platter
I'll feel for 'em (slow down son you're killin 'em)
Uhh, yeah, the kid with the thunder, slip from up under
The stunner, runner runner fronter, just admit I'm a gunner (blaow!)
I've been itchin all summer, just a quick'll a gun ya
With some shit you couldn't pump out if you was hit wit a plunger
I do this shit cause I wanna, not to sit in a Hummer (what?)
I've been sicker than Wonder, who's been sick since he was younger
The game's missin its hunger, cause I'm that other flare others fear
I don't wanna hear (slow down son you're killin 'em)
Cause I'ma rippity rap, rip up and rap, rip in a rap
Rap in a writ, rip like a mystery pack
That still rip when he rap, rippin was rap, rappin is rip
No cuts, rips in my wristery wrap scrap
Pic, picture me back into these cats who grill and they grill
But they wouldn't do diddly jack
I'm still a G, kill a G, artillery pack
Bring my Biggie fiend back (slow down son you're killin 'em)

[Hook:]
[scratched: "Who wanna mess with me"]
[scratched: "Ask I'm the baddest"]

[Verse 2:]
Yo; I'm a menace clown listen now, I grip the pound and get it down
You'll be a missin kitten and sniffin the scent of hound
That leaves the ditch to found, captain is capped, blap blap
Fuck if you new in town, you'll still get around
I keep the addicts in attics while I traffic the order
I done packaged the package then got it back through the border
You need practice with package your stacks are stackin up shorter
Crackheads say I give 'em flashbacks of Rich Porter (whoa)
But I'm past that, give 'em back Lassie or daughter
You can't flip a thing, you're ass-backwards with water
Ask faggot I'm scorcher, fuck your security
I got cats that'll pat pat them and off ya
Soon as I pass 'em the offer they'll ditch the G
Flick the flea a mystery the rest'll just be history
Yeah I'm glistery, it don't have you seasick
but just turn into somethin you'll be sick to see
Bling blaow, rings wow, check around the ring dial
Blue Smurfs, hit em where it hurts, ping pow
I'm p-p-past you I'll pass you, no cats could battle this battle
With all that babble you babble, you said you passed who I'll smack you
You hit the gravel I'm a movin menace
Youse a gimmick, get abused in the fewest minutes
1-2 I'm finished, have a group of tenants
on the side yellin (slow down son you're killin 'em)

[Hook]

[Outro:]
This is easy

[No lyrics]

[No lyrics]

(feat. S.A.S.)

[Mega: talking]
You know, yeah SAS, Streets All Salute
J.R. Writer Dutchbeatz yeah we the BG's

[Mega:]
I been patient fam' stuck in this crazy land
Where men will lick your head off your shoulders so they can make a grand
No snitchin, naw I'm bout to take a stand
My trumpet get the spittin you thinkin it's finna make the band
No safety, blow like it's A.C.
Call me bird's eye you heard why I make P's
I'm about my wealth
So I need a range rover that named after a book that's about myself
And it's over dosha, when I flip and put the razors to your face
I ain't talkin bout a Motorola
Big claims know you won't clap back at us
I have your whole strip runnin like they tryin to catch a bus
Oh you sellin drugs you can get your melon slugged
Then get swept off of your feet like you fell in love
I can fight but the guns preferred
We them Dipset thunder birds now watch we rain on them

[Chorus x2: Mega]
Why try, you're gon' die I
Pull up in a drop with the pistol cocked
When I pop I'm waving bye-bye
You don't drive by, all you is drive by
They call Byrd Gang you heard fam'
We fly high

[J.R. Writer:]
Okay, Writer
My my I'm sky high the fly guy
Pull up to your bitch escape with a whip from space I'm talking sci-fi
Why try to out do me I doubt truly
Cause J's an ape so stay in your place I ain't never been a slouch Scooby
Listen you not as sharp I'm getting the gwope to start
You ain't seen bigger m's since the McDonalds arc
These gangstas Pac at heart in front of your bitch
To turn and look like what who you comin with miss
You my son get the drift
So right now I be dissin myself, if I called you a son of a bitch
Give it up for the dips, cause it seem so simple
Yet I'm "So Sick" like a Ne-yo single
I will blast them, leave them I a casket box
Sleepin with the saddest 'ock for leapin like an astronaut
I keep the tech sucka
So I don't care if your pops marry my mother
How dare you step brother

[Chorus]

[Chorus:]
Dip.. bitch.. bitch.. dip
Switch.. hips.. lick.. lips
Miss.. twist.. quick.. flip
Then.. stomp.. then.. stomp

[J.R.: over Chorus]
Geah!
Let's get ready to bounce y'all
Let's do it

[Verse 1:]
I'm so low on fitteds, rose gold show was glittered
The blue was down, Juvenile, "Slow Motion" wit it
The slow flow is vivid, yo whoa hoe I live it
Oh no, throw bows, pros go low and dip it
You know how R twerk, I hit the bar first
For a bottle on a model tryin to converse
Hoe in the back tryin to get out her bra shirt
And pin a broad against the wall like some art work (whoa)
Huh, but I rolled up in a Beamer
Damn near frozen to my sneakers like I rolled up out the freezer (ice)
Plus you ain't never seen a soldier on a skeezer
That make the same chick dip it lower than Christina
Stomp, stomp, nigga front, stomp 'em out
Dip switch lick, that's what the song is about
Get ya condoms out, yes it's time to slide
Mom hot, parkin lot, girl get inside the ride

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp
Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp
Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp)
Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp

[Chorus x2]

[J.R.: over second Chorus]
Yeah, I don't think y'all understand the true meaning of this song
Let me make it a little clearer for y'all
Yo

[Verse 2:]
This that get it girl, twist and twirl move behind her
This that brush down your Gucci, Louis, new Gabbana
This that Luke baby move lady choose the grinder
This that 2 Live Crew, I need a "Hoochie Mama"
I'm just sickenin and gifted listen this Dip is the one
Six minutes, spit it, shit it, dig it, I did it for fun
I that nigga who comes, check and see ya ex and skeet
Can't remember me cause I stay on the tip of her tongue
I make the bitches bounce, pop a duck get 'em found
Cop a Dutch, split a ounce, chop and cut big amounts
I'm in the Switzerland, aqua Swiss, Swiss accounts
Without a deal still my pockets like Swiss account
I eat mobsters for lunch, feed 'em rockets and pumps
Get it shot, listen ock play 'Pac if you want
I'm Cadillac scrap that's my top in the trunk
No cover gutter brother the color's tropical punch

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3:]
I'm 'bout it 'bout it, crowd the houses and drought with some O's
About the foulest cal for cowards I crouch and reload
A patty waggy ask ya catty I style on them hoes
From nasty natty Cakalacky a mouth full of gold
I'm a nuisance you slut, get ya coupe full of guts
Front stunt, all you want, chump ain't stupid enough
He'll get hit split shit tryin to prove it to us
I sip sizzurp and keep Crunk Juice in my cup
I'm about getting straight some type houses estate
Your wife countin my cake, her nice mouth on my snake
Watch surrounded by flakes, boy and these rocks are annoyin
I can't keep 'em outta my face, uhh
Who's as icy as me, shit I ice sickle T's
It's nothing for the stunt and turn your wife to a ski
My chain hang and man she delighted to see
A hundred karats, faggot wrist full of vitamin D

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp
Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp
Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp)
Stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp (stomp) stomp

[Chorus x2]

[No lyrics]

[No lyrics]