Joey Trap
Breaking Pencils
[Intro]
Akachi in this mother fucker

[Chorus]
Hop up in this thing, had to get it poppin'
Had to hit a stain, he was pocket watchin'
Champ up in the room, see the bodies droppin'
I hit me Neiman Marcus and we get to shoppin'
Bitch, I rock my G-Wagon in lime green
Check the navigator, it's a touch screen
You could watch the movies in the back seats
In the back streets, runnin' like an athlete

[Verse]
I'ma pass y'all 'cause I'm goin' fast though
Maybe you just act slow, I know I'm an asshole
Anyways, my diamonds flash because they VVS's
All these bitches wanna cuff us, but they can't arrest us
They don't want a Puerto Rican drivin' 'round in Teslas
Beat it up, like wrestlers, I could get yo' girl to sex us
Put her legs in pretzels, write too much I'm breaking pencils
This Some different level, won't sell my soul to the devil
But the car I drive it lookin' something like a demon
Got your shorty in the back seat, lookin' like she screamin'
Like I said, I get to shopping boy, we hittin' Neiman's
Only reason I love money, I don't got a reason
N***as think I'm sneezin', I be blessed like every season
Hittin' licks for n***as weed, I think I call it (tree)ason
I'ma start a legion, big ol' Cannon like I'm $teven
Ain't no gettin' even, shoot yo' block and then we leavin'
Yeah, poppin' pills like it's Mike and Ike
Yeah, if I fucked yo' bitch, then would you wanna fight?
Yeah, pull up with the (Pshh) like I'm fuckin' Mike
Hit you in the light, you gon' lose your sight
You gon' loose a life if a n***a playin' with us
I came with them hitters and them hitters sprayin' with us
They prayin' for us, that's blasphemy
Shooters blast for me, please don't anger me on
Bitch I'm-, I'm incredible
Eat my vegetables, fuckin' crazy, n***a
I'm not lazy, n***a, I get bread, can't phase a n***a
Yo', how we-, how we comin'? We ain't change, my n***a
Smokin'-, smokin' on this yellow haze, my n***a
Yeah, uh, yeah, uh, damn, I made it, n***a
Damn, I made it, n***a (Tell my momma)
Damn, I made it, n***a, damn, I made it, n***a
[Chorus]
Hop up in this thing, had to get it poppin'
Had to hit a stain, he was pocket watchin'
CHAMP up in the room, see the bodies droppin'
I hit me Neiman Marcus and we get to shoppin'
Bitch, I rock my G-Wagon in lime green
Check the navigator, it's a touch screen
You could watch the movies in the back seats
In the back streets, run like an athlete