Many Men (Bonus Track)

(Ugh)
(Yeah, Look)

I pop many tags, remember when we popped up out that mini van
They all wishing death on me but bitch I am not 50 cent
Many men think I'm spinning on em' like a ceiling fan
Paranoid, how the fuck you know I'm not gon' air it boy

I'm big Jordan, you air balling, your bitch all in my face
Lil' hour glass, she throw it back, big bubble butt by the waist
I take her back home, break her back bone, send her packing with a brace
Bitch don't hit my trap phone, drop the at though, tryna slide with the rake

She a bad bitch
I told that lil' bitch to bust it open
He a savage
Caught that lil' boy lacking, cut him open
Providing damage
Hit his fucking throat he started choking
Like Calvin Cambridge
I pull up from deep and then I'm ghosting like

Poof, I brought the racks in the booth
He a goof, end up in a pack wit the boof
Pop out, shoot, run out the trap with the loot
He should move, unless he want one in the tooth

I pop many tags, remember when we popped up out that mini van
They all wishing death on me but bitch I am not 50 cent
Many men think I'm spinning on em' like a ceiling fan
Paranoid, how the fuck you know I'm not gon' air it boy

Thumbing threw hundreds, I'm getting paper cuts on my thumbs and shit
She like how I count my money, do a sheisty spread up my arm and shit
I spoil my bitch, but no I never ever bought her shit
I know I'm legit, stay with the stick like a log and shit
Get hit in yo lip, should've never been talking shit
Stay wit the pits, riding round with my dawgs and shit like

He was lacking when I crept up round the back door (Back Door)
Robo cop, we put that metal to his back bone (Back Bone)
Stick a thot then line a opp like where he at though (At Though)
I ain't mean to let him live, ran out of ammo (Ammo)

Check my M.O
Take a bad bitch out the friend zone, end up in the end zone
Bitch they call me Enzo, what's up though
Promise if it's up it's really stuck tho
Bitch run up on me talking that shit you could get punched hoe, we cut throat
What's his face and what's his name got stuffed inside a runt though
Get the Will Smith smack pussy, for talking like you tough though

They said spin back, but I spun already
They must be of sum' for thinking that we wasn't ready
Popped out wit the big mop, bitch I had to swiffer jet him
Knocked him out his flip flops, man down and his homie left em' like

I pop many tags, remember when we popped up out that mini van
They all wishing death on me but bitch I am not 50 cent
Many men think I'm spinning on em' like a ceiling fan
Paranoid, how the fuck you know I'm not gon' air it boy