Alright. You already know. KutMasta Kurt is a genius. This goes out to my folks E-40, Hieroglyphics, Kool Keith, my brother Bugsy Malone. I still got Too Short on 8-track with the dope fiend beat. So I had to let my man out…
Clifton Santiago! I drink beer talk Spanish out here lookin’ Negro. I’m Santiago with a gang a’ hoes in Mount Diablo in they pueblo I make a pass at ‘em ??? on some Aikman away Montana far to marina try and makes advances Las Vegas casinos. Gracias muchacha, me gusta como mueves tu sabes. Yeah it’s on, cause when Spanish broads call me now I’m gone, baby it’s on. I don’t give a f#ck about hoes, darkest blackest to the whitest brightest, f#ck about hoes. #ss and t#tt#es in the va a la tienda I’ll send ya before we rendezvous I’m drinkin 40s and blowin weed before I’m fond of you. Batches got snatches, all I wanna do is roll up some batches, my motto how do we clubbin, man don’t love ‘em rub em. Damn your girl, when I’m smashing you effecting you like the pill Ecstasy
Beotch! How are you doing? We only hook up for some screwing
Beotch! What do you need? I got drank in the fridge and poundage of weed
Beotch! You’ll never leave mad after sessions [sexes?] with the Motion out front there’s a cab
Beotch! Go home to your man, man, man, man
I met this b#tch the other day, she used to lick up on my #ss like every day. She’d lick my #ss up and down like her tongue was Charmin the toilet paper, paper. And every time she tossed my salad my #ssh#l# was getting more chafer, chafer. This b#tch used to suck my dick like it was just in a Slurpee. And every time she slobbed on my knob, she never would pull it out there and just jerk me. She swallowed it gulp by gulp, getting lightheaded, seeing stars, not TM TM TM TM TM TM TM TM, and 10 minutes returning back and shellacked her back and back that thing to the edge of the bed, I’ll pound upon you, frequent visits cause you missing your favorite hound up on you
Beotch! How are you doing? We only hook up for some screwing
Beotch! What do you need? I got drank in the fridge and poundage of weed
Beotch! You’ll never leave mad after sessions [sexes?] with the Motion out front there’s a cab
Beotch! Go home to your man, man, man, man
Beotch! [scratching] [repeat til end]
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