B.A.R.S.

Lyrics

On a tracc I turn into a virgin, cuz there's no fuccs given But I can sell a bit of ribs and still won't spare no feelings Everyday I'm making difficult decisions Like should it be the knife or the 9mm, which weapon I plan on concealing I don't need any bacc up when there's beef between you and me My baccground is official, been a rider since puberty Fireman from the way that I move the heat Q's drawers like Uhaul, paccing and moving ain't new to me Rhymes over your head, I fucc up brains like bad coke And still remain a player, got more boos then a bad joke I'm from a city where they shoot those 2 dice Preachers try to convince you everything's possible through Christ We sip Hennessey, not the lean with two Sprites And droogies drop the tooly, in the street they do fight 41st and Western, Snooty Fox with two dykes Whip out the video camera, it's gonna ve a cool night Where youngsters are thirsty for gaining a few stripes And treat fences like hurdles when they spot red and blue lights Where low riders are natural, that candy paint's too nice And bikes flood the strip and make noise with new pipes Some rappers had a chance but they're lyrics don't fuse right I guess I am the savior taking the music to new heights They hate it all they want but they can't fight it Deal with bars on the daily, I ain't got a mixology license But, they love it when Q. Allanz spits She loves it when I put the curve in, call it an Allan wrench Vampire, blue moon, you can say that Allanz Crip Still performing under blurred lines, son of Alan Thicke Born savage, no body parts made of plastic More like archery the way the technique is specifically crafted This shit here, another form of doing classics I just read your eulogy so hurry up and close the casket