Iatola

I'm meetin' up with the governor

3-2 and the Hillwood Hustler

Comin' straight out the head, though

From the brain representin' my ghetto

It's a trip how they die young

In the hood, in my Cadillac flyin' through the wood

With my homie Iatola in the clover

Pink soda, mind of a noter

Lean on my shoulder, slang coca

Twenty Gs on my team, Villanova

Blow marijuana in the sauna

While my **** move dope on the corner

V12 motor, vida loca

Now your bitch tryna give me her panocha

Fat sweet roller in my trocka

And my girl called the cops 'cause I choked her

Copa Cabana, thankin' Santa

For the keyboard that came with the sampler

Turn up the clarion, with the stelly on

She with me 'cause I am the champion

I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you first

Aye, I got some What A Burger, I got some What A Burger, I'ma sit back 'cause I got some What A Burger

It's the same ol' story, though

**** died 'cause he fucked with the wrong ho

It's the sign of the times, man

Buy a sack and thank God that I'm alive, man

Peace to my dead Gs

Fell short tryna stack up they benjis

In the mist and the fog, boys wanna squab

All on my dick like corn on the cob

You ain't shit but a job for one of my killers

How many **** must die by the trigger?

I'ma sipper, I'ma swerver, first degree murder

Smoke a fried stick and get wetter than a surfer

No reversin' my nature, ninety pounds on my pager

I don't love you, I don't hate you, but I will misplace you

In the gutter for the fuck of it, gangsta **** chuggin' shit

Candy on my mothership, and haters, they can suck a dick

That's the goddamn deal

And that's the goddamn deal

Yeah, hold up, man

This, this how we do this

So this what it came to, y'all the same crew

Old friends, southeast **** claim blue

But I don't gang bang, I claim no color

She lost her son, what if that was your mother?

I sit back in my '92 blue 'Lac

And I support foundations like LULAC

I went to Alma in second ward off of Sherman

That was back when **** jammin' to Pee Wee Herman

Smokin' with my teacher, but not the preacher

I remember fuckin' Liz on the bleachers

1986, wasn't makin' hits

I was chasin' chicks, havin' bad relationships

Now I fuck Asian bitches, fine Haitian bitches

Romanian, Italian, some fuckin' bang delicious

I went from pain to riches and I remain malicious

Shoot 'em up and leave 'em layin' in some strange positions