(feat. Lil' Flip)



[Lil' Flip:]

I know you like the way I murder the track

But I still be in the hood with a bird of that crack

In the burgundy 'llac with, peanut butter guts

The fiends run up to my truck for them peanut butter cups

Yeah, I pack tools like a handyman

Without a ice cream truck I'm still a _Candyman_

Yeah, just say my name five times in the mirror

And I'ma show yo' ass the true meanin of terror

Yeah, we cut your lights out, bring the metal pipes out

Memorial weekend, we bring the bikes out

The drop vipes out (vroom), the white Nikes out

The black strippers, plus the white dykes out

We call 'em kissin cousins, yeah kiss your cousin

Ain't it a shame these hoes lick dick and kiss they husband

Now that's foul play, and baby girl

I gotta check yo' ID, I ain't Mike, no child's play

I do the shit that cain't be done

Lil' Flip and Zab Judah, we the champions nigga

October 2nd we gon' teach y'all a lesson (bitch)

I bet you can't go around with the Smith & Wesson

Bitch! The champ is here

(Hot damn man fuck with your folk man)

(Stat Quo came down there boy)

(On this motherfuckin Da Bottom Part 2 for you bitch-ass niggaz, you understand me?)