I will not change for shit, I got my name from this Screamin' out gang gang gang gang gang I do this shit for the gang I didn't get in this for fame Nigga ain't takin' my chain I'ma stand firm with my name They say you get money, you change I got the

Bring it over Bring it, bring it Thirsty, baby bring it over here Ching, ching, gettin' paid over here Promise to love you, and obey And hit it more than once a day Girl I say that genuinely Fuck that bitch, it's what you say Baby bring it over

Get back motherfucker! You don't know me like that! (Get back motherfucker! You don't know me like that!) Yeek yeek woop woop! why you all in my ear?! Talking a whole bunch of shit That I ain't trying to hear! Yeek yeek woop woop! I ain't playing around!

Get high, hit the floor before you go. Matador, estocada, you’re my blood sport. Forty-eight thousand seats bleats and roars for my memories of you, Something good, oh something good tonight will make me forget about you for now. But something good

I ain't tryin' to hang with you (oh oh oh) I can tell you dangerous (oh oh oh) Shit just ain't the same with you (oh oh oh) I can tell you dangerous (yeah yeah yeah) Yeah, come on I know you too well Check myself, I don't need you But it's getting late,

Heheh! Heh! Yeah! Get him now. 'Ey, Cube! Cube, bwoy! What, what? Whattup? Get your ass UP! Aiii... Ohh, shit!

And can I hit it in the morning The sun rising while you moanin' Can I hit it in the morning Baby you summertime fine, I let you get on top, I be the underline I'm trying to get beside you like the number 9, dime You fine as hell, I guess I met you for a

Sometimes life seems so unfortunate, That's why I don't give a shit The poor stay poor, the rich get richer, It's just so disproportionate You don't know just what I've gone through, That's why I would rather show you Just how far that I can take it,

If I die tonight Tonight's the night I get in some shit Plotting on murdering motherfuckers 'fore they get you A coward dies a thousand deaths A soldier dies but once They say pussy and paper is poetry power and pistols Picturing pitiful punk niggas

You, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you Warm it up, warm it up Warm it up, warm it up, warm it up Fuck that rap shit, this that trap shit (Bobby) This world is my contraption (Bobby) I was born and raised in the trap, son (Bobby) Talk shit get