Let Me Take Ya
Well it's the short little Keebler with a flavor like a Rolo
Settin' shit off like an arsonist
I used to pinch pennies, but now I pinch dimes
Honey watch your order?
Cause if it's over ten than your ass is touchin' Stenge
Cause I'm tighter than a nun no joke
I take your ass to dinner so you know I gots to stroke
Cause I'm the freaky deeky
Bought my faucet, ain't leaky
Don't mistake me for a bitch cause my voice is kinda squeaky
Cause I pack a Smith & Wesson with my nigga adolescent, Bambino
Ced Twice and Stix & Stones
We slap friends, we slap foes, we slap hoes, whooooa
I'm only 5'6" but no need for tippy toes
Well follow my nose like these hoes that tag along
Wasn't made over night, it wasn't made in Hong Kong
A fat booty and a hootie, that's my late night scene
And if I wasn't wreckin' beats I'd be chillin' with some hoes
(Swervin' in a Cutlass on vogues)
I roll with my grip and chap stick
Humps in the trunk with the guns and the clips
Inside my ride I hit the blunts and the spliffs
I also hit the stunts but it's rough on my kit
Quick as shit on my fit
And I don't like that one bit
But I continue through
I've served a billion plus and now I'm servin' you
Ayo they hold us and they hold us and they hold us now they let go
We're finally droppin'
Ooooh check the echo, echo, echo
Now it's time for me to do the track like a ho
Bend it, flex it, go for what I know
I'm the mellow macker, hit it from the backer
Honey don't act up or I might smack ya like
Round and hit the door
My pockets are phat and I got whores in scores
Now let me say somethin' 'bout my rap skills
Brings thrills, pay skills, sends chills up and down your spine
I'm laid back recline
I check one two and run it down the line
The DJ, a playboy selection
The crowd never ram up this new style and fashion
So I just can't understand
Well I can come from the top and still get props
Ayo a siren from cop couldn't make me stop
Because I don't smoke crack jack just fat sacks of indo
I'll whoop your ass with Ken on my Super Nintendo
Cause I kill a killer
I'm realer than a Jackson that shouldn't be a Thriller
I'm Polo down, ayo I smoke by the pound
And get petro, I'm gassed
I pull it than I pass
And made my high last cause I mix my blunt with hash
It's only resin silly peasant see you do not understand it
Had the hidden camera now Tamera is candid
Bambino hittin' skins
And that was by intent to my collection and?
Don't try to run my style
Of course it's an obstacle
S.P.5100 and Aeropostale
Thanks for the jockers
I gotta get my propers
I drink Rum and Coke on the rocks
Another level of hip hop
I'm down to the tip top
I flow and don't drip drop
I got two thumbs up by I didn't need Siskel
Just Cisco and just be erp
The F.B.I. cause I'm a small fry
I don't sell Whoopers cause I don't need to lie in a tie
Tool that's used by the Stenge
I like to pop a cherry of a Saint Mary's ho and
Loungin' with the Level
Smokin' weed like a hippie
So adjust the treble and let the bass hit me
Adjust the treble and let the bass hit me
Turn up the bass, adjust the treble
And let me take you to a whole nother level
Turn up the bass, adjust the treble
The DJ, a playboy selection
The crowd never ram up this new style and fashion
So I just can't understand
Settin' shit off like an arsonist
I used to pinch pennies, but now I pinch dimes
Honey watch your order?
Cause if it's over ten than your ass is touchin' Stenge
Cause I'm tighter than a nun no joke
I take your ass to dinner so you know I gots to stroke
Cause I'm the freaky deeky
Bought my faucet, ain't leaky
Don't mistake me for a bitch cause my voice is kinda squeaky
Cause I pack a Smith & Wesson with my nigga adolescent, Bambino
Ced Twice and Stix & Stones
We slap friends, we slap foes, we slap hoes, whooooa
I'm only 5'6" but no need for tippy toes
Well follow my nose like these hoes that tag along
Wasn't made over night, it wasn't made in Hong Kong
A fat booty and a hootie, that's my late night scene
And if I wasn't wreckin' beats I'd be chillin' with some hoes
(Swervin' in a Cutlass on vogues)
I roll with my grip and chap stick
Humps in the trunk with the guns and the clips
Inside my ride I hit the blunts and the spliffs
I also hit the stunts but it's rough on my kit
Quick as shit on my fit
And I don't like that one bit
But I continue through
I've served a billion plus and now I'm servin' you
Ayo they hold us and they hold us and they hold us now they let go
We're finally droppin'
Ooooh check the echo, echo, echo
Now it's time for me to do the track like a ho
Bend it, flex it, go for what I know
I'm the mellow macker, hit it from the backer
Honey don't act up or I might smack ya like
Round and hit the door
My pockets are phat and I got whores in scores
Now let me say somethin' 'bout my rap skills
Brings thrills, pay skills, sends chills up and down your spine
I'm laid back recline
I check one two and run it down the line
The DJ, a playboy selection
The crowd never ram up this new style and fashion
So I just can't understand
Well I can come from the top and still get props
Ayo a siren from cop couldn't make me stop
Because I don't smoke crack jack just fat sacks of indo
I'll whoop your ass with Ken on my Super Nintendo
Cause I kill a killer
I'm realer than a Jackson that shouldn't be a Thriller
I'm Polo down, ayo I smoke by the pound
And get petro, I'm gassed
I pull it than I pass
And made my high last cause I mix my blunt with hash
It's only resin silly peasant see you do not understand it
Had the hidden camera now Tamera is candid
Bambino hittin' skins
And that was by intent to my collection and?
Don't try to run my style
Of course it's an obstacle
S.P.5100 and Aeropostale
Thanks for the jockers
I gotta get my propers
I drink Rum and Coke on the rocks
Another level of hip hop
I'm down to the tip top
I flow and don't drip drop
I got two thumbs up by I didn't need Siskel
Just Cisco and just be erp
The F.B.I. cause I'm a small fry
I don't sell Whoopers cause I don't need to lie in a tie
Tool that's used by the Stenge
I like to pop a cherry of a Saint Mary's ho and
Loungin' with the Level
Smokin' weed like a hippie
So adjust the treble and let the bass hit me
Adjust the treble and let the bass hit me
Turn up the bass, adjust the treble
And let me take you to a whole nother level
Turn up the bass, adjust the treble
The DJ, a playboy selection
The crowd never ram up this new style and fashion
So I just can't understand
Credits
Writer(s): William C Lincoln, Kat Green, Lucas Villemur
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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