Two, Three, Four
Hold your fuckin' horses
Niggas really fuckin' thought that T lost it
Like I bet it at an auction been exhausted
I been workin' while y'all cylinders smoke like broken exhaust tips
Fuckin' losers
Hold your fuckin' ponies my homie
I whip your donkey by my lonely I eat pussy like Shoney's
That's Tunechi, homie, master of ceremonies
I knock 'em down, domino effect, no pepperoni
I swear
This them golf boys, like them hot boys
For the nine, 9 and 2, 000, but its the 2, 000
When the one four and the one five, yo what up Wayne
(What up Slime, nigga go hard)
Yeah, I'mma go hard like before Cain
Got too much drive, need like ten lanes
Life is a broad and she give brain
That's that road head, that's a dream car
Got a four ten, of that same year I was born
That's that one nine nine one, 'nother nigga like I
You won't find one, cuz nigga I'm a god, a divine one, Tune
My trigger finger wise but my nine dumb
Middle finger blind so its fuck A-N-Y one
Fuck, skate and die son, a hundred ways to die son
I'm starin' at a tramp on lean, make my eye jump
Use Adderall like alarm clocks wake my high up
Steaks are high well done and prime cut, eat up
I stick my rollie in her mouth, let the time come
She got hair like Shanaynay, and eyes like Wonda
Oh my goodness
Wayne them bitches ugly, these niggas colder than Tommy buddy
Ye we hittin' models like Tony Parker be hittin' bottles
Bitch I'm goin' harder than yellow cabby stoppin' for Lionel
(Black ass nigga)
They be duckin' us niggas, shout out to Donald Sterling
Boy lets get a scrimmage, I'll cut some niggas, I'll bring the Clippers
And a couple owners, that's kinda German
You bring the nooses, and a couple trees
Where the money grow, and (get) bodies burning
Cuz I'm tryna hang like I'm Mr. Cooper or Jews in Berlin
Or some niggas from Alabama, Birmingham
I need music all over the street like Erick Sermon
Was, fuck us, maybe we should team up
Anti Golf boys cuz I don't fuck with me either
I'mma liar, I'mma faggot
Son you need Jesus
But I heard he left sunset, to go on tour with Yeezus, well
I'm prayin' for the new Yeezys
And you pussies prayin' that we squash the beef like zucchinis
I know, it ain't gain, nor fame, nor tame
Or lame, nor strange