All A's

Lyrics

I got to feed, the beat, the gat on the seat
 Fakin ain't these girls fake when they see they face in the paint
 Mustard and mayonnaise, and we smoke always
 Passin by these haters like we got all A's
 Say say say say Crack, what's the word on the street?
 Nuttin but hard times, workin this concrete
 I'm gettin dirty looks from niggaz, on the next street over
 They was in my filthy, fiendin gettin closer
 I'm in my seventy-nine, flyin
 Mobbed out so they can't see me when I'm ridin
 They slow me down, holla like we buddy buddy
 But at the same time I know these muh'fuckers wanna mug me
 Okay gunplay at the one-way one day witcha
 But I'll do years, if I bust these niggaz
 Keep point four-five calibers of chrome
 I'm, comin forth to carry you home
 Yo, well you damn right, dig it they call me Sugar Delight
 Uh-ohh hoe, Willie cuttin virgin broads tonight
 Blowin like a boss, that champion chief in cost
 And oh my dual exhaust, will make your shit get lost
 There's somethin bout these guns that give these hoes asthma attacks
 These are actual facts, I ain't been in no actual car-jacks
 but let me tell you this, I'll burn a nigga ass up to a crisp
 Ridin with these two glocks, we gon' bounce on off, on the new shocks
 My nigga don't hate me, cause I ain't hated, but we related
 No one includin me, should be understimated
 But don't you dare ride through the SWATS without, at least 30 shots
 Cause I'm tellin ya, these Southern boys gon' get all they got
 Pop it in, get to work, brains blow,??
 off the block before your carcass drop
 Can't share nothin with the niggeroles, stealin socks
 Out your cornbread dream too, if you got those, leavin deaf hoes
 brown, on the outside, pink, in the middle
 Ain't, barrin none hundred round draw
 Nothin under seventy-five, and I get slick??
 Takin no prisoners cuffed, they die fightin for they freedom
 Everytime son, rhymes too pretty'll get your mascara smeared
 When they did, my buddy Spanky I bust out in tears
 The world would be a better place to live, if it was less queers
 I still see, punk ass bitches. bitches.
 Get up off and give me room, activate, motivate
 Y'all from the section where the straight shit, straight up off the top
 Block for block, yo we got the??, wait for days
 Gone up off the Purple Haze, when you see me call me Mr. Gipp
 Shoot em from the hip, everytime I'm in my 84 Sedan Deville
 block me off and watch me peel, Big Boi grill ridin through the park
 on the weekend ain't no stoppin keep it dippin that's how we trippin
 Lookin mean, you too clean behind the glass
 Watch yo' ass, keep yo' elbows out the windows
 and my hands upon the wood wheel, money in my socks
 Lookin out, for the cops, and for the haters got a fifty shot
 whatever you wanna call it, nigga what? What?
 Now watch em slide like some finger lickin chicken, bout to start clickin
 Hoe better know who the true G's are, I'm the star, brand new car
 Dope ki lyrical cascade height, SWATS type, mic soldier
 Blowin composer, chief of that doja, told ya when I was older
 I wanted to live the good life, money over that bull, got that pull
 Stomach full, posse thick, niggaz wish, at a young age
 Goodie Mo.B., doin they thang, I, pray, for, change
 and my players in this game it's insane, how this 'caine
 is bringin em pain, young'un doin time dyin by this grind
 A-T-L, fine this just how it's goin down
 And the sound, watch your mouth in this motherfuckin Dirty South
 Nigga check it out, dirty SWATS got SPOTS

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
05:26
Key
4
Tempo
166 BPM

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