Free download
Song Info
Genre
Charts
#2,834 in subgenre
Peak #15
Charts
Peak #4,644
Uploaded
July 17, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 1.9 MB • 128 kbps • 2:05
Lyrics
If you live you gun you gone die by ya gun,
I’m a self-made nigga,
Sometimes I wonder why was Selph made nigga,
When you show a gun know that Selph may quiver,
He can’t help that shiver he a bitch to his grave,
I’m a pimp to the same,
Its like writing in metal how I’m quick to engrave,
And bitch I’mma say I’m the shiddish, I’m the man,
When Selph ain’t holdin pounds like a broke British man,
I’m a lift it to ya can like I’m making a toast,
And show everybody here whats a fake and a joke,
Mr. I ain’t coming back to cerebral assassinz,
Cuz ya shit runs slow like its dripped in molasses,
Pike sitting in classes, I’m so fucking bored,
And ya chances is like from here to a mission with nasa.
When I’m long gone you’ll be missing the master,
Of the audio punch line, trays like lunch time,
Laid like touch mine, lean like crutch side,
I blow you up in smoke like its dutch time,
You couldn't touch mine, these mountains of cash,
Getting pissed on more than balcony grass,
Or a mattress pad, or depends out ya ass,
And them earings you wearing prolly couldn’t scratch glass,
Hot trash like a land fill and sewage combined,
You saying “Damn Phill, man you should be signed”
You little spic motha fucker, man you should be blind,
Take ya pen and ya pad so you no longer rhyme,
I bet you understand this, hasta manana,
When I walk in ya crib with a mask and a llama,
Grab ya mamma, make you sweat like saunas,
Then get ya ass blown like Tony Montana,
And I’m leave at this cuz I know that you fucked,
If you get bread I bet its to sober you up.
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