(Damn Max, this one’s too hard)
Iced Up Records
Ooh
Drank God
Yeah, lil’ b#tch, gave her hood dick, they tote lil’ sticks
They too busy flashin’ that lil’ paper, that’s that lil’ sh#t
Pill popper, wood and steel chopper, get your cuz’ hit
Made the money, took care of my problems, got my hood rich
n#gg# freezin’, get the neck easy, a opp come dumb quick
Up some dog sh#t and smack a ho, b#tch you done with
f#ck them n#gg#s, and them p#ss# n#gg#s that you run with
That hundred bands you got hid in your stash, I have fun with
Open up the spot, hug the block like a grizzly bear
That same lil’ b#tch you kissin’ in her mouth, I put a kid in there
Blow a check, then another check ’cause I’m a millionaire
Had to do some time up in the feds to see who really care
Throw it up, b#tch, I rep the 6, I be really there
Yellow stones, yellow as piss, look like a Winnie bear
Fifty thousand dollars in my pants, sh#t barely fit in there
It’s only robbin’ shooters in my trap, no you can’t get in here
Ooh, b#tch, I got plenty chains
Lit n#gg#, when you get this rich you can do anything
Open up, go ‘head fix that throat, look like she finna sing
Everybody say they shootin’ switches ’til sh#t really change
Dog spot, and a yay’ spot, plus a weed house
I put so much Karo in this drank it knocked the lean out
Bag for bag, we go rack for rack, come bring your cheese out
Lil’ gang been ’round here shootin’ so much sh#t up, he look fiend out
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