Real Hip Hop 3

歌詞

Leather jacket, relaxing The movie scenes I’m acting These rappers practice I’m at the plate, enough to bat bitch Fully smoking locomotive, nigga, fuck an adlib In the club celebrating cause I’m self promoted Is it a fire? Cause the crowd smoking! Big Will, she off a pill.. rollin You know a country nigga hungry Waffle house? Open! But they too broke to pay their bills So they’re freeloading But it’s cool, sit down You know that nigga rich? Girl his name.. Chris Brown His chain’s so ugly that it makes a bitch frown I’m serving all these niggas But who ordered hash browns? Nigga, I be like.. yeah I got the check And I just paid your bills, so.. yes I want some sex Hah! But first, can I kiss your neck? And I’mma work you out So you ain’t gotta stretch Hold up! Let me slow up Impregnate your beat, I make that bitch blow up I eat all I can eat Until a nigga throw up I tell that DJ “ay! Pull up, pull up” Man, I’m so sick of these lame motherfuckas A nigga’s still shitting on the game, motherfucka Old niggas as the world change, muthafuckas Y’all niggas still being the same muthafucka? Who else, dawg? Look, let me go in, then I count more ends My tints 11, and your friends in my Benz The engine on that Viper 220 And it’s green in the trunk, but that’s new money Watch.. Frank Mueller, my Ruger Cut that shit – fire. I just shot my jeweler! Another hundred racks just to make my chain a cooler Off that Four Loco, out of my medulla Wow! I be seeing dead people Dead prezzies my besties Nigga, we are not equal How you get the big picture Looking from a peephole? My real niggas in the back, but “He ain’t talking to me tho!” I know you mad cause I afford it TMZ, I’m wiping my ass, so stop recording Supposedly a singer, can’t do hip-hop But I just killed this shit, so let the Shit rock