Ay, Backwood filled with that (ah) fire
Y'all boys smoking on, shh, quiet
Diamonds, they singing like they in a choir
Bumping new Bones, this taste is acquired
Ninety percent of the game is lies
So staging the lyrics, they didn't even write
Get on their knees for suits and ties
Then they complain 'bout the paper they signed
Pussy-ass bitch, time to man the fuck-up
They could doubt you, but can they duck us?
Two fingers crossed, hopin' that they luck up
PGA money, I'll stick to the putt-putt
I get so cashed, I look in the mirror like
"Pleasure to meet you" (pleasure to meet you)
If I had a genie, all three of my wishes would be not to meet you
They say they shooting like Sammy the squid, but that don't put fear in me (no, no)
'Cause I got the rocket and I got the power like wiggity, wiggity (yeah, yeah)
You would turn into Chris Benoit if you saw how your wife looked at me (ooh)
I don't got nothing to follow that up, that's terrible (yeah, yeah)
Bitch, tell me something I don't know
My razor, it cut 'em in slo-mo
Dump 'em and gut 'em, I cut 'em like butter, my battery full, I'ma overload
Pressing them facts like a photo
Put you on a shirt like a logo
Quietly shaking, he soft, and I'll take him and send that bitch ass where the ghosts go
Lay down, lay down, go to bed, don't say a thing
Lay down, lay down, go to bed, don't say a thing
