Dem Boyz (feat. St. Lunatics)

Like ohh better get em back push dem niggas back I hear dem boyz come'n dirty Like ohh better get em back push dem bitches back I hear dem boyz come'n(repeat 4x's) Who am I you ask me you know it's bout that grammar From any state it don't matter, from Maine to Montana From white girls name Anna, to old ladies name Nanna They hold'n up they banners, and run'n wit they cameras Can I get a flick you damn right miss (Can I take a hit) here boo like this Chronic sticky like gum, I guess that's how it comes Don't worry bout my funds, I play around it in one (Like ohh) When you seen that hummer, but that was last summer This year I'm much more blunter More up close and personal, it's just gon get worser now From Prada to Vokal, the Tics are too versatile Can't worry bout certain sounds, that come out these haters mouths I realize they can't help it, just stay where you bow'n down Some more you can't get these pounds, unless you gon smoke it now If not I suggest you pack yo shit up and head out of town They be like hold up, hold up, hold up I know that aint them man Murp jersey on backwards wit ol' school Tim's and Kyjuan got on so many colors just like a pimp Nelly chain so long got him walk'n wit a limp Ali is throw'n money in the front row And er' body scream'n Slo Down but where the hell is slo of course We be them up, close, live, and in person Might look like the type that be rob'n them purses But I aint I'm the yung dude I be rhyme'n them verses Worked hard since '93 that's how I got signed to Universal Now the girlies take they thongs off And it be crazy in the club when that Lunatic song go off I be that pull up right beside you beat'n bad type of Tic I'm a hold up traffic to touch her ass type of Tic Lunatic, that's what I am that's what I said I am I'm try'n to be a millionaire I bet I am, I bet I am It's dem boyz on dem porches in Air Forces read'n Sources My choice is ol' school's over dem Rolls Royce's Of course this Tic shit live like EA Sports is Dribble in the club I lay up wit two draft choices Hit the center touch the point guard, she hit the joint hard Ohh wee oh Lord, she don't want no more Cutlass is four door, stash for the 4.4 Smokes 1 44, what dem o's go for (Like oh) 350 1 more, 350 stick'n the floor brand new bizare Smashes, g 's and c's all in my glasses Tics fantastic we get booked more than matches Imagine, me without those two headbands Them Vokal t-shirts with some 8 class pants Feel'n dapper like Dan yes fresh like Mannie Cutlass candies sit down you know you can't stand me Band-aid, braids, bald head, fades, locks, stripy stocks, Rocks in the watch Big shorts, headband to a cross-jersey back Ross That's that Mid-West talk, I think yo bitch'll bark, Batter Up Naw cough, electric doors, Caprice Classic on these hoes Ver big shows tell her best be on they toes 5 country grammar boys in bandana platinum no gold like (Oh) That's what they say when I pull up on d's in that old Dr.J Whole Aviat, fat laces this world is rat races Head'n back places but it still seem racist Got locations so I haul off the wall off if you could fall off Got a room at the Wada wit a saw that 'll take the wall off Hit the mall off wit a sag hockey jersey du-rag Fitted still switch'n two different shoes starchy wit tags