![]() When I kick in the door, stop the blood clot crying Niggaz, see C's start shitting in they drawers That he gon' do them thangs that he rap aboutĪ true playa phar real, haters stay out my faceĪnd know that thing still by my waistNow, let's toast to the man that when he get outĪnd know that thing still by my waistOnce again, I'm sicker then 'em all It's five ways now days, everybody saw yaMa, I think it's safe to sayĪnd you don't stop, stopNow, let's toast to the man that when he get out Jump suits, state boots, at least three stabbingsįolding under pressure when confronted by them badgesI was taught, stay low and keep blasting ![]() Of these rap bastards who gives street passesOne shooting can lead to three caskets ![]() Three quarter croc, sharper than a pastor Niggaz press they luck, get bucked like ashesThree piece suits, linen fabrics Short to the point like Nash is fucking wit a savage Keep my name off ya lips, not guiltyMa, I think it's safe to sayĪnd you don't stop, stopI said, I'm sicka than your average Nigga took the stand when he coulda took the 5th Pop corks on champ' like I just took the chip Let's get dressed and toast to the occasionĬops couldn't page 'em, flow so amazing, hot like CajunYou fucking wit the champ Searching for a glock in the pocket of his fashionBitches wit SP stitches on they asses Paper, stretch like elasticChecks from advances, the bank can't cash it Wit a attitude like and ya don't stopAficionado, so fashionableĪnd you don't stop, stopSicka than your average Advisory - the following lyrics contain explicit language:
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