Writer, when can they fuck with me?
When can they fuck with me?
in million, one more time
When can they fuck with me?
Never in a million, never, never
Listen, poppy is about it
You be rockin' with the cowards
When I'm rockin' and it's crowded
And he plottin', gettin' out it
So I doubt it, that's a nigga
really wanna see his box up under flowers
With a Wallace, how I'm stylin' on him,
Put some dollars in his Amazon,
way before they cut the cameras on
he's a kid with his pampers on
yet the man even answer wrong
You see it, brother, sick, so what?
Yo, if you peanut butter shit with my jam,
This a champion song, they need me,
It's so easy, you couldn't reach me
No, but you cats are fronters,
and the truth, is that God I'm proof
I don't need to spit, I'm a G at this
cause the homie is a champion
When can they fuck with me? Huh?
When can they fuck with me?
When can they fuck with me?
when can they fuck with me? Never
Listen, I'm a pimp with a limp
Tents low, like my shit don't stink,
Pissed though, got my trench coat mint,
Twisted for cheaper, and a Cisco drink
But you can't go stink, think,
So I won't be a feature neither
when I ask you to get on the track
Come and get with this Mack,
It's as simple as that, in fact,
have that bitch to my stacks
I be spittin' that crack,
there ain't no fuckin' rapper wrong
I'm so potent, it'll make you say,
who snuck him past the border?
You can find me, where it's grainy
and they stumble past the torture
but I might have a couple bags of water
Come in order, I can get you that,
I'm a diplomat, writer's block,
Come and slip some crack,
You just angry cause they shout ya