8/14/10

"HOT WOMEN/BAD RAPPERS" f. CHRIS CLARKE | SUM


Hot women, I'm a friend to them
when they come by they got my attention and
can't front like I'm not into them
I'm trying to work, please stop mentioning em
I ain't with the hollering and whistling
I just talk sense with em, do a little listening
then it's a short walk to the crib and figure how to drop some of this Dr Spock into them
I can't win with them, there's no end to them
there's no break man, there's no interim
then again, this is LA, we invented em
and that’s the shit right there, who the fuck is Edison
back in the day I was one of the minutemen
ate em like M&Ms, stroked their hair and singed to them
now I got stamina, I might injure them
isn’t my intention but I flip over them hot women.

Women are my gasoline, the only reason I keep my fucking house clean
the only reason I’m wearing these corny ass jeans
the only reason I do damn near anything
I think about me and three chicks
I feel like Martin Luther King on some 'I have a dream' shit
I ain’t tryna make it a habit
but if I can’t try the shit once pass me a casket
that’s one of them rapper perks
I ain't in this to battle you outta work rapper jerks
do it for the love, right
yeah I do it for the love alright.
I do it for the love of bossy chicks with glossy lips
toe rings and nose rings and those are the only rings
sorry I was late but I saw this girl, oooohwee
my pants got dewy so I busted a U-ie.

Thinking we in back of you?
actually, we just about to lap you
feel that tap on your shoulder, that’s a rap soldier
we put the little hat on ya like it’s Passover, class over
in Cali that’s called smashola
I stay there while yall stay on that cola
that’s how you cats roll, skinny jeans itchy assholes you got next? where you at though?
fuck's new about you?
you chronic 2001 without the guns
you wannabe Mannie Fresh but your panties too wet, about to cum
pushy like you never had pussy, calm down some
and you underground cats, check your ultrasound
you’re stillborn, still running round yellin "Buck Em Down"
get this through your fucking crown, we ain’t you
that goes for you clown writers too
this ain’t Facebook so don’t tag me, it’s tacky
I rhyme over "Apache" live in downtown Karachi
box me in if you got a coffin to drop me in
otherwise fuck you guys, right on the chin.


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