ZooWee Mama
[Intro]
(This shit gon' be crazy, Jack)
Come on
(Thanks, Yakree)
Okay
[Chorus]
N***a, I might go and Dior my bitch out today
Doctor fucked up on her BBL, throw her ass away
I know a n***a that rapped for ten years, he still ass today
N***a, you might as well just stop
[Verse]
N***a, if I'm on the block, bet a hundred I'm with Rock
Wear your protector on this bitch, bro keep a hundred in his chop
I know how it feel down there, so I just one up to the top
Man, I been hittin' hoes, just go ask my mama
My left wrist like Frozone, my neck on zoo-wee mama
You got the cheese touch, back back, bitch you got ugly problems
N***as wishin' they was me, man, you don't want these problems
You ain't got this swag, n***a, you ain't worth them dollars
You don't keep no mag, n***a, you ain't bust no collars
Can't take the hood out me, we in LA, still eatin' McDonalds
They askin' me why I started rappin', I just went and found it
I hit so many n***as' bitches, as crazy as that sounded
I done got some weak head, but the pussy astoundin'
Just threw a twenty in the strip, forgot to tip the bouncer
It look like Sketchers on my feet and my shirt Public Housing
My n***a Five got a chop, it's 'bout knee-high
N***as don't start problems with us, n***a, and you see why
This type of gas I'm smokin' on'll make a bee fly
She irritatin', I can't be 'round her 'less I be high
[Chorus]
N***a, I might go and Dior my bitch out today
Doctor fucked up on her BBL, throw her ass away
I know a n***a that rapped for ten years, he still ass today
N***a, you might as well just stop
(This shit gon' be crazy, Jack)
Come on
(Thanks, Yakree)
Okay
[Chorus]
N***a, I might go and Dior my bitch out today
Doctor fucked up on her BBL, throw her ass away
I know a n***a that rapped for ten years, he still ass today
N***a, you might as well just stop
[Verse]
N***a, if I'm on the block, bet a hundred I'm with Rock
Wear your protector on this bitch, bro keep a hundred in his chop
I know how it feel down there, so I just one up to the top
Man, I been hittin' hoes, just go ask my mama
My left wrist like Frozone, my neck on zoo-wee mama
You got the cheese touch, back back, bitch you got ugly problems
N***as wishin' they was me, man, you don't want these problems
You ain't got this swag, n***a, you ain't worth them dollars
You don't keep no mag, n***a, you ain't bust no collars
Can't take the hood out me, we in LA, still eatin' McDonalds
They askin' me why I started rappin', I just went and found it
I hit so many n***as' bitches, as crazy as that sounded
I done got some weak head, but the pussy astoundin'
Just threw a twenty in the strip, forgot to tip the bouncer
It look like Sketchers on my feet and my shirt Public Housing
My n***a Five got a chop, it's 'bout knee-high
N***as don't start problems with us, n***a, and you see why
This type of gas I'm smokin' on'll make a bee fly
She irritatin', I can't be 'round her 'less I be high
[Chorus]
N***a, I might go and Dior my bitch out today
Doctor fucked up on her BBL, throw her ass away
I know a n***a that rapped for ten years, he still ass today
N***a, you might as well just stop