I Do It For Me

Lyrics

[Intro] Uh (Uh) Come on, aye, aye Roskeezy? Aye, my, my, turn it up (burps) Hey Roskeezy? Hey that shit right there, aye (Talk to me weeplations), that shit That's ebbin? Aye that shit smebbin, that shit ebbin? That shit smebbin, ooh (ooh) [Verse 1] 4:15 showcasing to the max Got my truck-a-ma-jig free racing causing anxiety attacks Pitch black normal tint BOOM BAP! Fucked around and overheated my Zeus amp 500, oh the hoes, fuck a hoe These are the things that, uh, you need to know Bust him open, spin open the duct tape and the foil Eat the rest, and get a pot and let 'em boil Bullet proof vest, never confess, keep a bucket full of acid 1-800-888 zippers-on-tastic Clientele, raise 'em high raise 'em low Out on bail, everybody hit the floor [Chorus] Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust (ooh!) Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust Dump, Bust, (BEOTCH!) Blast [Verse 2] Slurp slip, deep throat, shit I'm outta sight I like to get my dick sucked in - broad daylight Acting bad on the soil acting tough Break your ass down like a 12-gauge and call yo' bluff Ignore a fool, that's what they holler Snatch his bootsee ass up by the collar Law enforcement agents got me and my dudes up under investigation We hot like jalapenos Man, how come niggas can't put their money together like Filipinos? Life support, can you bring him back? He was one of them enemies that tried to participate in Swiss cheesin' my clean-ass Cadillac My Cadillac, my Pontiac I mean My under-bucket hoopty parked on Magazine [Chorus] Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust (ooh!) Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust Dump, Bust, (BEOTCH!) Blast Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust (ooh!) Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust Dump, Bust, (BEOTCH!) Blast [Verse 3] Check it out (check it out) Third verse, let's begin let's be gone I done served more water than, uh, Evian Posted up like a thumbtack, on the boulevard serving dead Yola, ice cream, Ben and Jerry (Jer) Been doing somethings, cigars and pinky rings I'm a fixture up in this shit, like E-40 and the Click Paper all up under my box spring mattress, choppers on top of the fridge Automatics in the kitchen cabinets, man I kill a motherfucker over mathematics Haters gon' hate, but they don't count, nigga hustle The dope game runs on two things (what's that?) money and muscle Do some Gotti, Fourth of July your party Laid his "supposed-to-be so-called-hardest-nigga-in-your-town" ass down in front of everybody [Chorus: (with three overlapping tracks of random talking)]