|
I seen honey and yo, I tried to hide the bulge |
|
And thinkin of indulgin in an all out makin |
|
Call out Breezely Brewin session of the flesh |
|
And as the matter was discussed |
|
This lust expressed through my reasonin |
|
Would help to seasonin that rump roast |
|
Gassin' up that blunt most incredible |
|
Edible vision with precision |
|
Had her fiendin for incision |
|
She's with it, yo fuck a hit it, I was sluggin for the bleacher |
|
As I represented, had her buggin |
|
Cause I reach a promised land |
|
Before I spread it on her jiff so on |
|
Must I go on play by play of the dukin |
|
I'll save that shit for Luke and |
|
As she walked me out of the abode this kid she know |
|
Jumped up and said "Next time I see you I'ma kill you" and was jetty |
|
(HOOOLD UP! |
|
HEY! WAIT A MINUTE!) |
|
("Next time I see you I'ma kill you" and was jetty) |
|
Hmm.....that's different |
|
The paranoid feelin' my first spliff sent |
|
But yo, I spoke as if the riff meant no |
|
And I'm sayin though, hon |
|
I pleaded I needed bonin' history |
|
To crack the mystery why this nigga was fumin' |
|
Speakin of my tomb, and she said "Please, |
|
Don't even stress shit |
|
That's like the average call boy that I mess with |
|
And I guess with bein' ghetto Aphrodite |
|
Have your mighty wanna-be-mack-niggas stress the clitoris." |
|
So I considered this but also thought of his proposal |
|
[Chorus x2] |
|
Brothas on some ill shit, kill shit, comin' out they face |
|
("Next time I see you I'ma kill you" and was jetty) |
|
I'm home back, I feel the dome pound I ponder the yonder |
|
Because the jaws of money on my swanson imitated Bronson |
|
But fuck a death wish, all that murderous conversin |
|
Could never have my person cruisin' in a hearse |
|
Instead of on this uptown number 2 |
|
Still I mustn't slumber, who knows the foe's mindstate |
|
If his fakin's nathan, then I could be swayze on the strength |
|
Cause at any length mad niggas see God and Santa Claus |
|
Gassed to the tenth exponent |
|
Fuck it I'll see, I'ma flex, don't it make sense |
|
Heads now chillin' in the room, I load the jammie |
|
Think about it for a second then I grab it |
|
Cause yo, I'd rather have it, not need it |
|
Then need it, and then not have it |
|
You follow, I swallow ghetto pride for fearin' shit |
|
Like honey said, "Don't stress it, just don't care |
|
And hit the streets like Mr. hardrock" |
|
But hardrocks become rock hard with rigormortis |
|
And respect is the commandment the diving trigger taught us |
|
When a dire nigga caught us off guard and scarred |
|
Mental agony of all sorts, at least he made a handsome corpse |
|
But me, I wants my wrinkles and my hairline while receding |
|
Honey beeps me 911 the love bone's needed |
|
Fuck it, I'm out... |
|
[Chorus x2] |
|
Yo, check it out, turned the corner to a block |
|
Peoples was lookin wild rough |
|
And I seen shorty with the mouth by DT's with handcuff |
|
And gettin closer to her gate I figured that he wasn't bluffin' |
|
The honey I was with is strictly bodybag stuffing |
|
(Cause I'm sayin bye-bye...) |
|
("Next time I see you I'ma kill you" and was jetty) |
