[bang, bang]



[Sheek Louch:]

Yeah, Poobs whattup nigga?

Sheek Louch, new album comin son, _After Taxes_

[tires squealing] Fucked up



Aiyyo, fuck that nigga, send him to the funeral home

Let a couple of them hot things sit in his dome

Let his family stand over him singin a poem

When I pull out and I bust my chrome

Girl or boy, I put it your neck like Troy

And I don't let bums beat me, I'm not like Roy

I'm a cut somethin off of your bitch-ass

Nice and easy, I'ma get the beef over quick fast

You muh'fuckin right, it's goin down tonight

And I'm stressed, yo Poobs let me get the vest

Graveyard, I ain't workin with a lot of rest

Just crack addicts and mathematics

And I don't mean science or One World Alliance

Sheek use the iron like a household appliance

I'm the hardest nigga, I don't need a major

I can go indie like The Artist nigga

And get paper out the ass

Throw the deal in the bag and drive the red GT out the glass

Hood all smashed, diesel and hash

Itchy trigger finger, I'm startin to get a rash

Y'all can fuck off, or bust that off

Your little-ass guns 'bout as loud as a cough

Sheek Louch spit for them niggaz up North

Shank wavin, misbehavin

Two treys blowin powder for the shit they blazin

Two AK's 'n, one revolver

I've been workin at hustlin as long as your father

Y'all lil' niggaz don't even bother

You ain't got no juice; you like a cell phone without the charger

I don't come half-assed

I come home with a big bag of jewelry, other half cash

Mean whiplash, plenty of horses

Fuck it if I crash, I take my losses

Sheek Louch nigga, accounts got bigger

But I ain't gon' retire, no disrespect Jigga

I'ma keep flowin 'til there's no more dough

Or I'm sick in the bed and my voicebox go

Motherfucker! YEAH! {Whatdja do that for?}