Rating is available when the video has been rented.
This feature is not available right now. Please try again later.
Published on Feb 3, 2008
Your boy sick So move or the germ might touch ya I'm at the rucker, burning them trees up like Usher When I teach you how to rap fam I'm in that black van Like Air Ones and Canaries the size of Pacman Who gives a fuck if it's our brawl Cuz my dog got the windows from the 24-Hour slawg I'm on the verge of flippin Lord send me a sign, before I empty this nine, and leave the board drippin Me and 50 are like Michael and Pippin Ryu and Ken, whoever you send, I'ma rip em' I'm added to society, mainly wit my system Run and put em' in the truck, like a kidnapping victim I'm papa so they pushin me harder My associates got interior motives like Bush and his father I figure, I rather play wit these blades before I pass Build a ballcourt, and go buy Bentleys to go to crash I'm headed towards my prime Wit metaphors and mines And I compliment my momma wit pedacures and wind I'm nine for nine, the rap Einstein Pound for pound I'm Tyson a.k.a Icyin Message for the record I ain't sleepin for a second So even if i make it theres tool under the pillow I'm brought up, to the V wit a poolish from the window I'ma smoker, so the brokas won't leave us wit the Indo Im an angels nightmare, Freddy Kruger to a bimbo A dead beat to your daughter Ill fuck her and wont support her I'm matching on the pedal Smile from ear to ear Middle finger in the air Hopin I catch her eye Keep rydin behind your tens fuck Niggas don't know no Denim They'll rob you for the rhinestones and your pimp cup They goin off of we say Niggas is runnin off from my buzz, faster than Jamaicans in the relay I'm blowin the cush, driving lazy in the lane Yelling money ain't a thang Like Jay-Z and Jermaine About 80 on the chain Like Brady wit the aim I'm the same Whether the Mercedes or the train And I may be on a plane By the end of the night But it's aight Though, I might throw I'm rich off a Mic Hoe My stamina's low X-Rated is my type so I keep the crib packed in, no telling where it might go Living room, dining room, bedroom, bathroom Upstairs, nuts smeared all over your Sasoon Ya on that fly shit That Southside shit Thet I'ma sit on these ten million before i die shit I'm from the block where the heafers be To doing shows out in Kingston when they rocking where your peppers see And being gangsta ain't enough A lil' nigga that's stuntin will put a killa in a box like Chuck CHEAH!