Surf Swag

(KE on the Track)

No Ceilings

Ok

I got this chrome on this Bugatti, I'm strong in this Bugatti

Two V8s, ain't no such thing as drivin' calm in this Bugatti

Bitch, I'm bad, I'm worse, I'll pass the purp

Don't fuck with me 'cause right now I'm higher than Captain Kirk

I swear I be the sickest ****, you can ask the nurse

And if you throw it in a bag I bet I'll snatch her purse

Ok, I spazz, I curse; you last, I'm first

I'm on your ass, like dirt, behind that cash, get murked

I'm talkin' big shit, ****, join my hit list, ****

What's the matter? Check your bladder, I'm the shit, piss ****

Shoot the witness, ****, hold court in the streets

And convict this ****, ol' dickless ****

Man, I'm runnin' with the blocka, Young Money mothafucka

You think we gon' do our thing? Well ain't it sunny in the summer?

And we comin' for the commas, and whoever among us

And you know I'ma bust my ass until my crew very humongous

I said T.I., hold your head, and Mack, hold your head

Wish I could but I can't say some other names 'cause of the Feds

And to my Bloods, code red, man, you know how we play it

And if it costs to be the boss, oh well, I guess I gotta pay

I'm a New Orleans ****, I don't take no shit

Take the brain off the whip, now it don't make no sense

Stunt hard on these bitches, I ain't promised tomorrow

Now women kickin' it with me like Nomar Garciaparra

Fuque roll them killer plants, the Lil' Tune Shop of Horror

And we roll them bitches thick, make 'em look like Tocara

Man, I'm too much for these **** and three much for these hoes

The world is in my hands and I keep my hands closed

I love my baby mommas, they get my highest honor

Gotta take care of them kids, man, I know you heard Obama

And I live on an island, Atlantic in my backyard

I just tell my pilot to land it in my backyard

Quarterback shotgun, you don't get any sack yards

Bitch, I ball hard, breakin' all the backboards

Pretty Boy Floyd, step up, I will crack yours

And even at the White House, we pull up at the back doors

Walk around like I'm 30 feet tall

Tiger Woods, all these hoes tryna birdy these balls

In the Porsche 911, like emergency calls

Man, I just be chillin', I'm cool like Lou Rawls

Young Money in the buildin', I'm puttin' up new walls

**** take your Mrs. Officer and set some new laws

My flow is like rubbin' two logs

Young Mula, we the new shit, new drawers

Now get off my dick, I ain't fuckin' with ya, uh

Watch me shoot to the bank, I'ma money pistol

Weezy beat the beat up like Sonny Liston

Redbone do me good then her friend assist her

I mean the bitch she never met her best friend or sister

I leave the pussy micro-soft like Windows Vista

Young Tunechi, pop that coochie for a goon, hoe

Bullet in you boy's memory, now you act like you don't know

Eastside who I do it for, Eagle Street, right by the store

Katrina wiped the city out, but couldn't fuck with Hollygrove

Lost some real **** I knew from a long time ago

But heaven or hell, I'm hopin' that they be where I'ma go

Take a ****'s gal and make her come give me a private show

Still long hair, don't care like a Navajo

I'm the hardest shit, go in your ass and search

I smash this verse and I swag and surf

No ceilings