(feat. Chamillionaire)



Hey...



[Chamillionaire]

Bad is how I kick nigga no way, that little ass pager is so gay

My 2-way way too big to be a 2-way, it's a 4-way

Ask me who the hardest rapper nigga, you know who I'm gon say

I'ma say ay-ay-ay, like JT Money and Sole

Koopa don't pay for the four play, you tell her how much that you gon pay

You must be kin to oranthol, cause you a Simpson like you OJ

OJ throwback no way, the OJ throwback I throw away

Too many niggas dress alike, I ain't trying to be you for the whole day

Look like a 2 Fast 2 Furious clip, on a tow away

It look like I'm riding backwards, rims spinning the wrong way

See that Fake-ob I mean Jacob on your arm, nigga no way

That ain't authentic, we know what it is but I won't say

Wanna know if my pockets fat, and how much do my do' weigh

A question like that, will get a chick kicked through the do' way

I don't give no do' away, get out she gon obey

She gon take the coat from a Lil' Jon song and say, (okaaay)

Gutta gorilla, mayn I ain't no Holly

Wood industry ass nigga no, they don't call me

On the phone like they wanna bone, cause they know prolly

The chick I'm with gotta have a upgrade, and a J-Lo body

My princess cuts why the slugs, look kinda like lightening bugs

Rims double the size of dubs, they standing as high as us

Koopa don't keep a strap scratch that, cause he prolly does

Keep a heater with extra slugs, in a clip in his Ivy dubs

For a minute, Nappy Roots had a whole movement by being po'

Through that movement I was moving units, they must of been moving slow

True I'm on the radio, but I prove I'm streeter than Greg

Flip the microphone off the stand, and you'll get beat in the head



[talking]

Yeah, my solo album Controversy Sells

Drops in November, on the same day as Paul Wall's

"People's Champ" solo album, Color Changin' Click-clack



[Rasaq]

Aw suckering-suckatash, who's that coming up on that cash

Screens go z-z, when I push a button up on the dash

But a weapon up on my ass, do dirt like what's under grass

Two shirts might have something stashed, you jerk if something flash

You move if something blast, you hurt and on your ass

You cursing when I pass, I'm swerving in a slab

It's Rasaq on the block, in a drop with no top

With a bottle with no top, and a model with no top

And I'm going to the spot, where niggas is losing

Put the clip up to you spit it, and let it rip through your FUBU

Dog I know cats that'll break you, in a kitten caboodle's

In a range for a funeral, for the niggas who knew you 

I'm in the hood in the hallway, where there's pissing and doo-doo

And the fiends creeping at night, and come up twitching up to you

I recycle what I see in the hood, and deliver it to you

With niggas is coo-coo, hang with a few loose screws

Or when I'm flipping in hoo-doo's, sitting on two-two's

Listening to new Screw, jewelry is glistening and too blue

And I'm chilling with your new boo, I ain't forced her in the whip

Got her talking so much, I told her to put a cork in it

Like Sammy Sosa's bat, leave your mammy with a swollen back

These tracks on a broke mattress, a couple of bones is cracked

And I'm gone no coming back, no hugging no rubbing backs

I'm thugging and loving stacks, nigga how you loving that



I bring it to you

I bring it to you

I bring it to you