Lyrics
Yo where you at? Right here; what’d you spit? Light years
I’m fresh — like a new pair of white Airs
Stay crazy, blaze daily; say babies, raise ladies
Buck 50, keep the change — here’s a buck 80
Yo where you at? Right here; what’d you spit? Light years
I’m fresh…
Stay crazy, blaze daily; say babies, raise ladies
Buck 50, keep the change — here’s a buck 80
Chicks dig how I spit it, ladies love the phlegm
I don’t ball with none of y’all, I’m still above the rims
And the roundhouse kicks, had the streets, huggin these jims
Drop jewels, even fools be lovin the gems (dig it)
Let’s get it on and poppin, and keep it activated
I hope you mean advanced, speakin on any plans rap-related
I body my verses, rip the beat, shape it Press rewind, play it, say it, get me reincarnated
Like retards gettin pussy, I dumb in the cut
You wake up in jail cells, with a thumb in your butt
You ain’t a thug, I run the club with rum in the cup
Ready to rush your DJ, just to make your music jump (punk)
That’s why I go to clubs with like ten beams
And the white mens I run with can’t jump, cause they own the team
And if you ain’t Kim, it seems you don’t know me I spit 16's in your face like twin Colbys
Chances get slim like, that shapeshift
cause Snoop done wrecked +Gin &Juice+ like BET, and my Chi homey
Who’s fuckin with dis? Have you duckin the hits
Leave you stuck in desert with a bucket of piss (bitch)
Sit in the passenger seat, while I’m crashin your Jeep
Hot potato was the only way you herbs was passin the heat (c'mon son)
You a mangina, and a prom queen-ah
who learn how to thug from fans and don divas
This is that Hell Rell shit, that spell well kid
I snuff buildings, if I wanna sell bricks
Deal with thick, no time for fine dimes
My lines got +Big+ potential like I write for Shyne
And I’m master of the cypher, Lord of the Rings
And my third-eye blings, like +The Scorpion King+
And that’s exactly what sounds funny see
Cause next time I rap, it’ll be on the soundtrack for Mummy 3
The game’s painstaking, I remain ancient
Claims to have your dame dancin naked on 'posin train stations
Cats’ll push a button, mush ya wifey button
Never mind your business, divine intervention’s when you butt in I don’t spit no more, I circle while at games
Quick to give you barbed wire thongs for your granny panties
You bitch made, couldn’t stab a track with a switchblade
After you dictate, tell me how my dick taste
Put 7 in your chest, if you owe them checks
And I ain’t talkin 'bout the Clippers, leave your jersey a mess
I’m a veteran, respect me, my basic spit
make these young players better, like Jason Kidd
And if I’m gettin paper, it’s cause I’m rippin flavor
I’m nice around the mic like the Wizard players
Spit a verse that deserve a replay
Get on some humble shit like YO, GIVE IT UP FOR THE DJ