Ah, shit
Oh yeah, we got the motherfuckers organizing rounds in the house
We got Jay Smooth, Killabee, A-Walk, and M-M-J-J
We keep the shit out for the bitches in Tennessee
Killabee kick
Once again, Killabee can't a drop another one
Another bummer jam to make all the bitches run to the stage
And get their panties all soaking wet
It's time to jet, so get your funky ass up and say
Roll up a joint and let the song get fucked up
Poppin' a tape, but that funky ass fucked up
MDG got my back, so call me back me up
Just in case some motherfucker try to jack me up
Ape pop, pass the chicken to the right, let me get up up
Ha, that's a motherfuckin' kite, just ain't good enough
So stop at the liquor store, grab a fifth of Coney
Yeah, roll by the crib, all shit, I forgot the gap
Let's go to the club and choose up on some bitches G
But if they ain't too wonder, let's fuck up their memory
Take em to the crib, get em high on the G.O
Drop the ass off and do the same to the next hoax
When it comes to game, I'm the player, the rep, the coach
You can't approach the n***as with the most hoes
So all you fools out there, let's try to spy that bus
Get off my dick, cause you can't fuck with some n***as
Fuck with, fuck with, fuck with, fuck with carbon, take a fuck with, fuck with, fuck with, fuck with carbon
Take a fuck with, take a fuck with, fuck with, fuck with carbon
Fuck with, fuck with, fuck with, fuck with, fuck with carbon
Dimension, he hit the set, so I reached for the ass straight
To roll up the road just to start smoking and give away
Sunday, 9, 8, 9, 8, 9 V-sumps on my page, ya
N***as fuck with you, n***as fuck with you, yeah, n***as fuck with you
Can't fuck the legacy, the whole fuck is King G
The planet's landin' planet, hoes juckin' on my Jimmy
Give me the proof so I can do what I can't just do
Get fucked up or either fuck me or sketch it to
There's the bag of chicken and the 1.5
So I can fuck a junkie trip as it tightens my eyes
Four real n***as with a thing for guns and shit
But also gettin' funky on the lyric of Tip
Orange-bound born so I warn stupid suckas
You can tell some TSM be a dead motherfucker
Holes on the tip, n***as slip and get ganked
Rackers in the stow, pullin' hoes and get spanked
Run of the mill, punks jumpin' on my ding-a-ling
When all I wanna do is find a dick-suckin' freak and say
Back on the hell, from Bud Smoke and Poetry
The chick and I'm kickin', that's why the real n***as knowin' me
Rockin' the crowds and you know they won't quit screamin'
Hey, Bob, kick that shit
In a Cadillac Mac, my n***a fuck the bus
Come to OTS to find n***as like us