Lyrics

Yeah, came through steppin' with the queso drippin' Since back then, shit, I ain't no different No sunshine, I'm finna paint no bitchin' Nigga, I'm back here to stay, so listen Raise your fist if you're down with the Hop I ain't gon' miss, bitch I'm wild with the shot Now a halo sits as a crown on your top Don't make no sense how I'm stylin', I'm hot Don't ask me when the fuck I'm droppin' that new Never know when I'ma hop in that booth Still I'm coppin' that loot But lyrically aimin' choppers at you Ain't no tellin' who 'bout to get it when I cock it back, boom! That's blood on the wall like a Halloween scene Who the fuck did it? They know it was probably me Yeah, Papa need three new thotties, street freaks Gotta put on a rubber before I hop in these cheeks These hoes tryna get a free ride Gotta be wise from the west coast to the east side If she slide then she might be plottin' On your fuckin' demise for having your B-A-B-Y You'll watch your bank account swerve Now your pockets drained and malnourished You send texts with rage and foul words Shit just ain't too safe around her That's why I stay real low-key (low-key) Melatonin and the strap make you go to sleep It'll leave niggas tap dancin' with both feet I am not takin' my chance out in no streets (run town) I ain't never had me a pair of no gold teeth I ain't tryna be a target for a slow creep In the parking lot of Target, screamin', "No, please!" Now you're in a real tough pickle, Rick, oh jeez Ah, nigga these killers gon' do what they supposed to do Now you got no jump, I'll finally poster you Doctors ain't able to stitch up your open wounds Everybody fakin' like they was close with you Dyin' for nothin', got you on the billboard (yeah) Well, I guess that was something to live for (whoa) When the Devil pull up with his pitchfork You better hope you ain't stuck in his shit storm (ooh) I'm live and a damn the city sinner (yeah) Hoes know me as H man the titty licker (yeah) I'm ill, your lame ass a pity nigga Really no need to debate that, you kitty litter A penny pick up, a Henny sipper I'll be brutally beatin' on my opponent until he give up (yeah) Bitch I'ma fuckin' gator, you merely your mini picture Niggas, know that you see prodigies golden It really is us
Writer(s): Hopsin Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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