Katy Perry in this bitch, call it pop time Automatic call block, never hit the hotline Talk time zero on the mobile or the cell bricks House made of rap money never had to sell bricks
We ain’t with that Evian or TED talk This that 110 degrees where the dead walk, south side Madras we the shit till the jigs up Only thing we got is a wicket or a sixer, sheesh Rock that bata on my feet I’m a beast, got the Vada in my teeth and a fucking cup of tea I don’t spill lil homie, pay my bills you don’t know me Went from takeout rotis to eating pink eat raw poke I pull the pin on y’all, you been-hardknocks But now you making eggs for your kids while I been on call with labels Been gone for two-three months my lady love my brown skin I been cooking while y’all still not thawed goddamn (This is where the hook goes)
They said they want that rough shit, yeah I give ’em some, son Legendary trashman, rappers in my tum-tum Marathon run shit I be on my gump, son Do it for the have-nots, nerds and the numb ones Yeah I make a lump sum I don’t need a handout I ain’t hit a slump once This that wave, wave, hi and then dump them Ride the wave way high and then run them
Never had a day job I ain’t suitable for cubicles Instead, I’m giving 16 bites with 5 cuticles The set I’m in is silk sheet pillows and not the usual You’re celibate, your dick be crying at all the funerals I’m this guy: Seen in the east of the Pasadena region from being a blip with a visa scheming I dipped, dived in it Now I’m I’m legally lethal and brick by brick I been beating em like these rappers beating they women
Over the head, I don’t make Ms But I don’t bank empty Shout to my dogs, beating the odds How they gone make ends meet? I don’t got Gods, I gotta problem I gotta whole lot of problems I walk in a room full of women they put up the wet floor caution sign They want that “finer things in life shit” On my Guy Fieri, dine her, drive inside that [?] Fuck it I’m a dive in Hair stay wavy like I’m Tony the tiger I’m motherfucking vibrant
They said they want that rough shit, yeah I give ’em some, son Legendary trashman, rappers in my tum-tum Marathon run shit I be on my gump, son Do it for the have-nots, nerds and the numb ones Yeah I make a lump sum I don’t need a handout I ain’t hit a slump once This that wave, wave, hi and then dump them Ride the wave way high and then run them