FT - F-It-Less

Yo, yo you can let the magnum bust or puff bags of dust If you mad at us, watch that ass get crushed Now ya screamin' why did the blood have to rush It's a bunch of thugs after us, slugs blastin' us Y'all rollers done mashed her up The nigga with the live weapons Who got shorty runnin' and comin' in five seconds Givin' back shots patch box, fat knots I rap hot, like black glocks Disrespect this and get disconnected Then sprayed like disinfectant The shit I spit keep my lip infected I practice safe sex so my dick's protected And hold the gat wild, puffin' fat L's Bonin' a chick listening to Maxwell On a Maxell, my man called me on a black cell He told me he got bagged for a crack sell How ya feelin' son, not that well Bustin' techs and shit And no matter what sex you is Behind ya back niggas'll sex ya bitch Make you wonder where the exit is Fuck That, cuttin' no slack I'm bustin' fat nuts on ya back [Hook x2] Yo, what it look like You got crack what it cook like You gotta track, what's the hook like F is off the hook, right We stole cars while you took bikes And on a good night, I get ya whole hood sniped [Verse 2] Hey yo, what it look like You got crack what it cook like You gotta track, what's the hook like F is off the hook, right We stole cars while you took bikes And on a good night, I get ya whole hood sniped You's a half thug, beatin' ya dick in the bathtub I get mad love, do a crime won't get bagged up Roll in the set, put a hole in ya chest, open ya chest, Flowin the best, no one contest, I'm blowin' ya vest Until I die, I'll be high off drugs Money bought me everything but couldn't buy me love My niggas blast and shoot cha' from here to Massachusetts The cash be ruthless, that's why ya ass is toothless You ain't half as ill as the admiral You a crab for real, nigga grab ya shield Rappers wanna kill me and blast me cause my rhymes are filthy While other niggas are silky and sassy Upset ya squad, I'll never wet chu' God Y'all niggas ain't worth a dollar fifty on a Metro card FUCK THAT!, I bust gats, sit on the side like hubcaps Never leave home with out the rough raps Paper, I got to touch that, you want bitches, I want track [Hook x2] [Verse 3] Yo, I know this ho that'll set chu' up and take ya tech Then niggas that make you peck to break ya neck Her mind was the dirtiest Ever since her pops died on the 30th She was livin' the life of unworthiness Her name was Karen, she drove a black LeBaron And by the way, she used to sell packs of crack for Aaron Tyron, do anything to be in a live zone Smoke five bones then rob the jewelry store for nine stones Attack ya town, packin' pounds, smackin' clowns Back em' down like Jackie Brown You never had skill, I'm mad ill like an overdose of Advil Killer at will [Hook x2] Fuck That, true criminal F-F gonna hold this down Fuck That, true criminal F-F gonna hold this down Fuck That, true crimina F-F gonna hold this down Fuck That, true criminal F-F gonna hold this down Fuck That, true criminal F-F gonna hold this down