🎵
LETRA
20 Bag Shorty No more reasonable doubt I've proven to be the illest MC Somthing's wrong wit ya motor skills cause y'all ain't movin me I'm who you see musically when you want it done hot Comparin' you to me is a lesson in futility stop I paint pictures beautifully but niggas is near sighted Don't worry about plagiarism it'll take them years to bite it Which the greatest fears I don't write it It just appears outta thin air like the information obtained by a physic Like it or not I pay dues and expect to be paid back Why the f*** should I freestyle I'm gettin paid to rap I sling a track laid back almost till it's a sin Tell ya god somebody's doin a good job impersonatin' him J-Hova spittin game from the Range Rover What tha f*** is y'all doin in da third lane get over Slow ya rode up I got it sewed up like a tella Relatively easy like Jerry Heller Cream is cherry vanilla got chicks in da telli Belly up soundin like mayhelia tryna tell y'all Y'all know da style burn da town Down and change the locale I'm doin da same shit except its legit Got a twenty cart shorty better play that shit You owe me twenty baby better pay that shit Got twenty bag son better blaze that shit They said I wasn't seeing twenty but I made dat shit Pimp Gotti get da dues in them double down Like them kids with tips who tops down Bricks who get money quick see me Representin bomb city on da bill block rockin' mic's Before they get a mill I sold pills all night The illest outta life got my mind on fate Cause even on tour ni*** still ain't safe I keep a tre eight on my left smoke a L for stress countin dirt bag lex I be da X like malcom puff for now dunn east side represent wit tons of guns You keep it real where you from Cause where you at might put da dagger in yo back Its like livin wit yo homey that be on crack And fact my niggas know my styles phat like hoes in da El Dorado My mind toatin f*** em duck em Any thing but da main gun I don't trust em I am the writer of the third verse and it goes: Cool with the ni*** huh, Fro main chiller Berg shit, word shit, I splurge with scrilla Absurd when you word spit bird shit killa Not to be perturbed with, herb shit dilla Can't even feel ya for real ya tock ticking Bust a rap or bust a cap hustla, stop flinching You fresh off the corner calling dog shit, raw shit Soon as he feel that soft shit he be like aww shit Yaw broke niggas resot to glass looking Opposites attract ass whooping I present the black class hooker, the fat ass booker Cripple ya staff triple ya cash hash cookers The past ain't never the last to teach lessons My peeps fuc*** up in the streets? Keep guessing The ruger don't be coming to preach I teach lessons Lotta kids coming out the wrong way like c-sections Know the Fro goin flow even if I'm cross shores F*** weed cop coke cause the shit cost more Thats why niggas say i floss too much but When I take it off and such they say I lost my touch But bitches like the money I wear, its funny how they stare Dumb bunnies with their cunning little glare Shorty let me see the tail if it's really that shitting She hit me with a feline (fee-line) a young cat, kitten My boy hit that shit, now everybody splitting Even holding snowballs and I ain't talking bout mittens [Hook]
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