SUBMIT LYRICS
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by
Joey Fatts
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Doctor: That’s it Mrs. Johnson You’re doing good relax Push. There you go push Mrs. Johnson: Oh shit Doctor: There you go Mrs. Johnson, relax Mrs. Johnson: Goddamn. That little motherfucker looks just like his daddy West side of the map East side of the beach Grew up on ‘Pac and DBG Raised on noodles and EBT Food stamps can’t buy shoes so I got it in the streets Like I’m ‘possed to Young mosta But you don’t want it from the shoulders I’ll fuck you over And slide on you in that Nova And slump you over Shells in the 50 cal size of canned sodas Know I’m bad for early deaf in hearing way I’m living Scheming on the millions Duck tape a nigga and his children if he the nigga with it On the mission out to get it One rule is by any means X I prescribe for the low The hood Dr. King Bad bitches flock to me Because they see this guap on heat Said she likes the way I’m dressing So she swallow poppy seeds Niggas see the way I’m grilling know I got the Glock on me Try a robbery, this shit gonna turn to homicide Street commodity 50k is up in my Cuban Links These niggas slept on me Dickriding, they need a NuvaRing My niggas stay with me, it’s a problem my niggas shooting things Don’t even play with me, if it ain't about money keep it moving G Grams in the APCs I’m serving fucking J-O-B Young nigga been paper chasing since before I learned my A-B-C’s Crip niggas stay free Fuck two bad hoes a week Even if you got lynched you niggas can’t hang with me
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