Pandemonium

Lyrics

[Intro] (AyoRay, turn me up) (Ayo, Tyrell made that ho?) Yeah, bitch [Verse] I'm the man in my city but I ain't the mayor Joggy Palm Angels, sneaks Christian but I ain't the savior Up a Curry on your bitch, bet the pape' amaze her Bitch, you a small fry, your nigga, he a Baconator I'm a tag popper, you at the mall lookin' Like we Chinese, if we catch dog, cook him All my bitches bad, I should give 'em all whoopings I'm the type to drop fifty, you would get the ball tooken Flip the fully lever, gotta both hand the Drac' If I get caught up, I bet my lawyer choke slam the case In my rap bag, don't think I'm gon' scam today Matter fact, I'm 'bout to print a check and go scam the bank Shoot him up, if he don't die, we slidin' with a booster shot Had to dump the Gen3, I went and bought a newer Glock Dirty double coffee cup, bro sippin' on a sewer pop Dilly-ass pendant, boy, you need to get your jeweler shot Back-to-back Palm Angels joggies but we all demons Dog Shit Militia, might be skinny but we all eatin' Goose coat off the Nike Tech, bitch, it's frost season Fendi tee with the eyeballs, I'm the all seeing Should I do the plain jane or bustdown Rollie? Quick to up the big fucker, it get pandemonius Twin blickies on me, pop out on some Zack and Cody shit If my mans down, I pick him up, he don't owe me shit Bet she fuck me and bro, we be parlayin' hoes Glocky with the red beam, this a Darth Vader pole A ho gon' be a ho, you can't change her, bro If you ain't SB to the DSM, you a stanger, bro (Checkmate, touched a hundred off a DeskJet) God damn, takin' chunky Triple-S steps This a Tesla, I ain't gotta make the next left I be bustin' banks but unc' can teach you 'bout the Rex next Shit, fuck, damn, bitch neck got my toes twitchin' I ain't Elmo but you can catch me with some long chicken Had to block your bitch 'cause she was on my money phone trippin' They say money talks so when I speak, all the hoes listen Fee-fi-fo-fum, runnin' in these Track2's Punch, scam, slide, file claims, I don't trap, dude Knocked the loose screws off his ass, bitch, we pack tools Cold Iraq jeans, Iraq sneaks, they a rack too Right pocket swole, left pocket knotted up ShittyBoyz do the shittin', know they tired of us All our bitches rich, might fuck around and Prada us Anywhere that brodie caught an opp, you know he shot it up They was lookin' down until I got it up Shit, fuck, catch him out of bounds, your baby out of luck Fuck, damn, this a hundred rounder, be done shot a buck He ain't ShittyBoyz, he ain't around, he can't rock with us [Outro] Bitch, yeah ShittyBoyz Dog Shit Militia, that's on every song Yeah