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"And maybe you've never felt the things that I've felt" |
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[Verse 1: Slug] |
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You can't **** with the Felt that flow |
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All the shit that you talking, don't help you grow |
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Mad face, can't wait to catch a man made elbow |
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You see me say 'hello', when I leave say 'hell no!' |
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I'm not an asshole, I'm a perfectionist |
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Travel the globe to have sex with pessimists |
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My pimp, my doctor and my exorcist |
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all suggested that we come here to wreck your shit |
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It's the treacherous, two plus Ant |
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If we can't do it, who the **** can? |
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They claim king, go and slave to the ringtone |
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I smell pussy in the bacon that you bring home |
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The fist-****ing dysfunction at this function |
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is enough to justify shutting down your production |
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Get off the mic, go straighten out ya life |
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for one of these mc's who puts it on your wife |
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[Verse 2: Murs] |
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Your girlfriend got her panties off, once again |
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One gnawed that nasty shit that I done to her friend |
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So once again it's on mother****er |
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And you won't do shit, you a bitch so **** ya |
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I didn't like myself this morning when I woke up |
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So keep talking shit like I woke loc up |
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I'm from Pico-??? we don't stop |
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when the police come, then the heat go poppin' |
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Now we stopping, we go in the house |
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You can get jail time for just tryin' to show out |
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I'm trying to roll out, no doubt |
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Come and take your ho out |
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Popping that junk, young punk what you know about |
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Felt 2 me and Slug comming through |
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When we serving these suckers like 'may I help you?' |
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Supersize when we ride on these busters |
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Murs two times with the L mother****er |
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[Verse 3: Murs] |
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Man who the hell are you? Try'na barge through |
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This is my episode and it don't co-star you |
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So shut your ****ing mouth |
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if you don't know what you talking 'bout |
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Got on your cell phone, call her, tell him |
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Now you running my name through the mud again |
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Who I **** ain't none of your bussines |
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What I lick or suck man, mind your bitchness |
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And that's bitchness, not goodness |
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You ain't proffesional punk, you're a pimp's assistant |
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you ride shotgun, I try to whip fool |
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Pussy don't drive this car, bitch dick do |
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And if I hit you it's a knockout |
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You strolled in but I bet you won't walk out |
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0-0-7-3-7-3-5-9-6-3 |
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That's the code if you wanna **** with me |
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[Verse 4: Slug] |
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You want a hit |
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Give me a dollar plus a beer and some head |
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Yo Ant turn up the snare till my eardrums turn red |
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This is for my people waking up in burning beds |
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And this is for my people waking up to earn the rent |
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I didn't come start no messes |
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I paid at the entrance, I wasn't on the guestlist |
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Had a few beverage then left |
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because the rappers, hookers and extras were unimpressive |
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30 something, getting closer to the turkey stuffing |
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Dirty husband, victim of a mercy snuffing |
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Birdy bugging on the bottom line |
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But I'm buzzing off the wine so everything is fine |
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Put your hands in the air like you're happy to have hands |
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I'ma jump up and down like I'm happy to have fans |
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Lets all stay away from the pistols aim |
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Onto bigger things, peace to Ricky James |
