Her shoes, straight was hooker.
Don't play, I'll cook ya.
What's shakin' suga, I'm gettin' cake.
Fetti, cheedi, bacon, moolah.
A snoddy attitude. She laughed.
I purple hazed to kush her.
I'm havin woman problems.
Wife with the Louis Vuitton.
Said I'm living, and I did her wrong.
Forget a song, I swear I love her to death.
But we just can't get along.
Her problems bigger hell.
Her dad died, man beat her.
Got laid off, and plus her son got sickle cell.
Missus Bell got shit to tell.
Sound horrific, ain't a doctor.
But your son I wish him well.
Under this damn pressure.
She looked at me, I looked at her.
Tell you some dudes might fight son.
Gunplay daytime, when the night come.
But I'm from Harlem, want a problem.
Yeah you dealing with the right one.
A straight girl, a dyke one.
Uh, tell you the boy's amazing.
I show some poise and patience.
Well that there destroys a nation.
My dudes employed by Satan.
And once the grape is dry.
Hope ya'll enjoy the raisin.
Tonya living check to check.
Kim gettin' high, no self respect.
Mtv, man crack got direct effect.
Plus all the side effects.
They coming fully loaded.
And then divide yo death.
Fuck the tec betta hide yo neck.
And I keep a chrome case.
And a lawyer, just in case.
Moving at the wrong pace.
Hope you got strong brakes.
My crew ain't nothing but candles.