This is WKYA, We Kickin' Yo' Ass radio All you motherfuckers out there that wanna get down with the pound Put your motherfuckin' pounds up, and start bustin' the motherfuckers Am I too loud for this motherfucker? Turn me down a little bit Yeah forget Yeah yeah yeah Yo, first of all I'm a grown-ass man, pay my own bills Stated own real, haters gon' feel direct syndrome Mouth with cold tongue, you bounty hunters be on the chase For Joe Young, I won't slip keep pink slips to my car I'm raw like sushi bars on boogie broads, I retrieve the money Dawg Labrador, Ray Charles can see it, and Stacy Lattisaw You get mashed out, 'cause your bird is peckin', Don't be the next vinyl cut to 'Urban Legend', I can feel where you at When I pound you up, you out of town coke rhymes Oh you clowns is up my crew stay in the truck, can't fit in the Porsche If you bitches ain't happy, then get a divorce, I'ma do what I want 'Cause my time is now, grab the whole rap game, and divide it down If I wanna roll a Jeep with a seat out the back Bitch feet out the back, system beat out the track Am I wrong for dat? Dawg, am I wrong for dat? Yo yo, if I walk into the club with my hand on my snub Beatin' down security 'cause I don't give a fuck Am I wrong for dat? Dawg, am I wrong for dat? Yo Keith, yo yo Keith I copped the whole box, went half with Reginald, hollow tips Infrareds and clips came free and you ain't gotta believe me Fuck bein' nervous far as I'm concerned they're at your funeral service What do we have here? Snitch in despair, shoot off his ear Have his whole body shakin' in fear storm trooper fires throwin' Lashin' out flames a few ashes, when they analyze your remains I live in the streets, reside with the toolie, I kill you like it's part Of my religious duty, street sweeper thug keeper sweepin' thugs Under the rug even females who think they thugs trigger the release Of adrenaline, when I'm gangsta-trippin' like the bloods 'n' crips 'n' 'em Unleash the matter of energy, killin' 'em, why'd you do it? Because I wasn't feelin' 'em If I ride through the hood, smokin' a ounce of haze With a shabby haircut, pants I wore for days Am I wrong for dat? C'mon bitch, am I wrong for dat? Yo, if I want a fat chick that keep her toes done When they playin' my song ass spill out the thong Am I wrong for dat? Am I wrong for dat? I gotta, bang the boogie to that bang bang pussy To that bang to the pussy the beat, beat, and if yo' Bitch ain't sippin' that Cristal shit then she might be leavin' with D. D I got a hairy-ass chest, like Austin Powers, that bitch That "Stan" drowned, I fucked around with her, act like a man Stand on your own two, doc takin' it all, fuck who it belong to © FUNKY NOBLE PRODUCTIONS INC; WB MUSIC CORP.; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com