Yo, yo, yo, yo
**** you
What you wanna be when you grow up
You wanna be thugs
You wanna be pranksters
You wanna sell drugs
You wanna be gangsters
Thats what silly boys are made of

Aiyyo, aiyyo
Cool gs and forty seven flavors
Display swade gators
We comin through
To blaze neighbors
Meet mark and pardon me to heat mark
A dutch spark it
Lex leonardo arts profit
Apple cranberry mixed with crystal
Fan worry
Desert mountain crib in the ground
We arsonists
One point five a liter
Take a taste
Splash your heater
Smack your face twice
Clap your sneakers
Shit is like a mission to mars
Fishin for bars
Takin whats ours
Knowledge the car pa
Dont be stupid
Get a little cash
Better swoop it
Throw it in the ground and recoup it
Next check was best
Your family pack your shit
Get vexed
Leave a nigga standing in a bag of leaves
Some niggas catch on later
Try to put them on they haters
I met eighty of them niggas yo
Waitin on the sidelines droolin
Some need schoolin
Let me teach yo
And roll a student what
Rule one
Yo respect if you lose son
Dont be big back about to learn to move dunn
All hell to niggas in jails
With sharks in they fishtanks
Now he come home he a whale
Wolves in the projos, projos yo
We realer up in my shows yo
Middle finger five os

Take time to climb vines yo
Lay on the lines
Like laury only lovin rae kind
Sun splash cash layin like three bags of hash
Fully wrapped in a indian mans stash

Aiyyo
Aiyyo, get up
Lex should be braggin
Get it up
**** shorty got cream in a mean truck
Prop-ness she hollar like the loch ness
He large rock this
Fresh ferrari in a drop six

Fros
Yo talkin about the dough on his clothes
Glaze is crushed up pokin on rolls yo
Oh yeah and maybe gettin cream
See what I mean black queen
Stop actin like crack fiends an
Brawl we wanna thank all of yall
Play the wall hype
Checkin how this lady walks stay hawkin
Grab the remain, divorce （uh）
Shame came to yours
We like green
Rock the same gameplan, ours （yo, yo）
Method man
Ladies and gentlemen
Your about to see
A pastime hobby about to be
Takin to the next degree
By m-e-th and the bloody chef boyardee
Watch out bitches is too nosey

Backhand slappin the phoney
Got to walk it off cant mosey
Who got you open up
Crack pipe still smokin
Face frozen

Coke straw stickin out your nose and d
Proposin that you bleed on the chef apron
My thing hold down the play-pen
And say the nursery rhymes they makin
Come on now
Shits too real
**** you and now your man feel
Time dont stand still for yall bitches
Wanna big ball
I got two for you to juggle in your jizzals
Im losin it now
Throw in the pieces like a jig-saw
Aiyyo
She multi-colored like a rainbow
Mr. meth and the cuban link kiddo
On tracks we connect, politic ditto
Take that to that