[Chorus: Free Murda]

Shorts with the slippers on, white tee, fitted on

Shorts with the slippers on, white tee, fitted on

Shorts with the slippers on, white tee, fitted on

White tee, fitted on, shorts with the slippers on



[Free Murda:]

Low shorts, slippers on my feet, gold diggers wanna creep

Nah, this nigga don't wanna be

One head in the Chevy, man, I don't want your teeth

Next week I'm vegetarian, I don't wanna 'meat'

Cuban on my neck, Jesus is the piece

Keep it moving, all that tech'll leave you resting in peace

Rest in peace to the homey Jeff Row

Mess with Free then that forty will blow

Nigga already know, that I'm, the same ol' pimp

Free, ain't nothing changed but my chips

That's me, still getting brain from your chick

Not just these dames, cuz these lames on my dick

Me, Free Murda, shorts with the slippers on

White tee, fitted on, Fort Greene, get it on

Me, Free Murda, shorts with the slippers on

White tee, fitted on, Fort Greene, get it on



[Chorus x2]



[Free Murda:]

Dark is on my face, sparking up the haze

Chalking up the space, once I departed from my waist

Hand in my pocket, blonging off your braids

Better tuck and roll like Blanca on the game

Keep fronting, I'mma bang, lay a hand on this chain

That nigga ain't crazy, Gnarls Barkley ain't your name

Your know how that purp do, I'm around like a circle

Have me higher than the pants, that's on Urkel

Plad shorts sagging, down to my slippers

Bad whores bragging, how they unzipped the zipper

She want me to whip her, and pull her g-string

I love T-Pain, make kid fall in love with a stripper

Sip bub in that liquor, until I feel saucey

Hand on my forty, damn if it cost me

What bail, nigga? Say, fuck jail, nigga

Ain't doing time, I tell 'em, go to hell, nigga



[Chorus x2]



[Free Murda:]

Look gangsta in my fitted cap, desert in my white tee

Take and wont give it back, deaded or you might see

Yourself out your slippers, take the soul from your body

No help out to get ya, when I unload from that shotty

Shorts, slippers, white tee, boss nigga, like me

Get it popping in the hood, don't force a nigga like me

Cuz he'll let one go, nigga, just to show ya team

Ain't Young Dro, but that four'll make my shoulder lean

Bagging up dirt, they don't even dig a smell

Bagging up purp, you can weigh it on the Ricter Scale

Force, let that chicken hail, cuz I let that chicken swell

That be money, niggas funny cuz they missing sales

My nig, what you grinning for, ain't no faggots here

Diggin' up in them shorts, pockets all rabbit ears

Think you leaving lavish here, like Yung Joc, call that dope boy magic there

Dope boy, magic here...



[Chorus x2]