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Check one, check two, lets take a cruise |
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I done did the game every which way but loose |
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Nothing left to do except collect my cash |
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And i bet that ass that the mex gon' last |
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Put the past on paper, threw away my pager |
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Cuz these boys keep callin from locs to cookie baker |
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Mama saved em from the hate, now i'm hard with the pain |
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I'm in the place in your face tryin to sell you a tape |
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I break records in texas creepin in caddies and benzes |
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And a pretender if he step up to the bullet bartender |
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I bet i check and wreck a sucker riding bumper to bumper |
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I might dump the whole clip and miss and hit your uncle |
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I ain't trippin, flippin, sippin on purple lipton |
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Diggin women in the drop lemon, g livin |
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I was driven to my last nerve, hittin curbs |
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Puttin twenties on a grass hurst |
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End of verse |
|
[chorus x2] |
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No shame |
|
Welcome to the dope game |
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This is were we don't play |
|
Leave your boys with no brains |
|
Whoridas |
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I remember long ago i never got no love |
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Still i knew that one day i'd be popular |
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I used to stand in the circle trying to smoke your bud |
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Just hopin that the blunt wouldn't pass me up |
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I used to ask for a sip of your syrup |
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I used to never walk around with the white cup |
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Now i eat eighteen steaks, on silver plates |
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Girls fanin my face, others give me grapes |
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By the grace of god, i was given the job |
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To run through the rap game like corn on the cob |
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So blessed in my test, i bought my sets in the southwest |
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I ain't got no credit cards except mexican express |
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I'ma dress my baby girl and rock the whole damn world |
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If you needs tracks happy p got my referal |
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Your head twirl to the sounds of the sp mex |
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Ridin in the lex with a dog named plex |
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Southside to the north, at the old golf course |
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The valet the white porsche with the bulletproof doors |
|
[chorus x2] |
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It's the l-o-s c-o-y |
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Pack the pistola, oh me oh my |
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My nina shine like the sun, i never ask for a crumb |
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For breakfast my chef makes me eggs-fuyon |
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I've come from the hills of ghetto thrills and chills |
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Three wheelin, dope dealin, killin nothin but squeels |
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My third wish was to break this curse and myth |
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Now i'm worldwide status on your satilite dish |
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Punk checker, chump wrecker, got the salt and the pepper |
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Left a mark in the game and never been a half stepper |
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Leopard skin on my couch, be like oscar the grouch |
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From the streets, pullin rocks out my kangaroo pouch |
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But i told these boys, never at my house |
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Whether it's the ounce that puts leather on my couch |
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A thousand dollars a week, my baby girl's allowance |
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Dope house bouncin cash to my forgein accounts |
|
[chorus x2] |
