[Featuring Lunasicc 151]
Chorus: C Bo
All I ever wanted was a pair of Nikes
A Lexus a mansion and eternal life
Maybe what it was I was askin for too much
Prayin to God thinkin 'did he give a fuck?'
Twelve years old I was always told
Every day I want it that glitter ain't gold
But fuck that shit I want a twelve inch dick
A Coupe a chrome and a money makin bitch
Verse 1: C Bo
A 'Lac front, back, man, I wish I had it
In a brim, Rolex down wit a automatic
I be the shit, pimpin hoes from Cali to Louisville
Strip em for money in Magic City and the A-T-L
Cos see these bitches ain't shit but investments
And they ain't worth shit unless they makin profit
I need a money-makin bitch to satisfy my needs
Some pussy, dough, diamonds and G's
So when I swoop in my coupe, out to get my loot
Collect it from hookers more famous than Betty Boo
It be that, legalised pimpin that's keepin me above the water
Fuck a bitch, get rich and live the life of a baller
Cos a broke bitch ain't nuttin but a downfall
Unless she cement her money and her mind, y'all
And wit straight-laced game is how ya take control
I been practisin the shit since twelve years old
Chorus
Verse 2: Lunasicc
One foot in the grave and eleven inches insane
Psychotic nigga named Lunasicc, squattin out them gold thangs
Slappin these bitches, y'all can't be laggin on the payroll
Let's get your ass right back to the track before your face get steezo
I'm cold like the winter, get up in your flesh like a splinter
I dash with the cash then mash on the gas, prepare a hog for dinner
Creepin when I'm sleepin, my bitch ya want coasted
by the window, wit an AK ready for niggas wit their gunplay
Cap peelers, drug dealers, I thought you knew
that if you fuck wit one of my niggas then you're fuckin wit the crew
We roll deep like sheep, always strapped wit some heat
OriginaGet out of hand
Get under foot
Get to the square root
Put a word to a feelin'
Let 'em know with whom they're dealin'
Dear Elizabeth throw your fit
Yes you can talk or you can walk, you can walk away
You can stay and make em pay for you, feeling this way
Thrown out grow up I shot (grown up my child punch em out??)
He goes down on me with my (critique??) you'd mind quite a bit
Dear Elizabeth throw a fit, makes me feel like I'm lit
Get out of hand
Get under foot
Get to the square root
Put a word to a feelin'
Let 'em know with whom they're dealin'
Faint talk after the song ends:
That's what you told me to do!
No, don't do that crash, that sucks.
See, that's what you told me to do!
She looked at me and goes 'now'...