Lyrics

[Verse 1] Blewell jeans, Moby Dick stitching Trigger finger itching To trouble one of you niggas I'm daring one of you niggas to jump I'ma snatch you out pistol whip you Then put you back in the trunk Shit, I'm back in the front The front page of the newspaper They say I'm seeing more paper... true But only if you knew that I was in your house right now taking the paper from you Where ya safe at? Chick is swinging on the dick like a fucking bat And catch it all like an umpire I'ma go hard, rims bigger than the fucking car Baby girl say why the fuck you even got tires? I don't know, just get inside And never question my shit again ho I fold dough like a notebook I see money, you pass it up like Magic Johnson no look Who the fuck taught you niggas how to cook That's what I'm hearing up in your song Beat said if you're cooking up the product and your wrist don't hurt when you do it then you're doing it wrong (fucking bidness)