about a cop or a G man They all talk shit, their breath smellin' like semen I catch 'em in the alley all alone Put 'em in the prone, pop, pop, pop to
A nigga don't stop for squares or octagons prepare I'm not the one you scared, the Piccolo Pimp done set up shop Nigga you pop lock, for pop rocks,
with 2Paclypse and them It's like Funk Doctor [Eminem] Mr. Punk Rocker Got the drug stock inside the lunch box Pop junk like I just got jumped Pop the
get juked by dangerous music? We stole all your money, and all your songs Done you like a hoe and then sent your ass home One punk came and went Had
You think Oakland, California, is a city of punks It only takes a second to pop the trunk And just like that, you know it's real You're in the right damn
than a fag or a Frisco dike He's a sucker MC, I call him punk Tryin' to spit that rap, you can scratch that junk You little punk-ass boy, wouldn't listen
the Town House crackers mad noise 2008 a G, a game I'm Ron O'Neil the love seat, sunk deep Lil' niggas bussin' off they punk heat I'll make a massacre
Punk Bangin [Chorus:] Rubber Burnin Turnin Corners Beatin Like A Congo [x2] Drop Top Flip Flop Shine As The Chrome Glow Blowin Dro On 24's Livin How The Song
door with my hands on a gun Cause niggaz 'round here wanna ask where I'm from I throw up my signs, step back and pop one 'fore you throw up your sign
pocket We snatch wallets off the white collared The Big Apple forever rotted Narcotics hunt the hard target, Hot Nix' So what the bumba claat? Pop shit
' beats like Adina Howard My squad is hard with players and hustlers No toleration, for fakers and busters Fuckin' with me with all honesty You get bombed rap songs
Bagin' shit up, there's always something missin' A nigga that's speeding bound to have a collision Bound to be in prison or bound to pop a mission So
seats recline and lean harder X, smoke green, and buy the spring water Y'all niggas polish your jewels to bling harder I cock the fifth, y'all drop your
this song, To make you feel hard When you hit the bong. When the 40`s up And then the 40`s gone, To lick shots kill cops, To a hip-hop song.
one that bitch shot him Bringin' the drama like a punk, but your fucking somebody Whut, Lodi Dodi, send a duce up in Dey Coupe But after a hard eight
I put your whole clique in the air Baby, so quit playin, 'fore the clips spray 'em And have his MIA like Nick Saban His whole shit caved in, my whole clique cavemen Hard
a kid? You all alone, no communication, block on the phone Don't get along with yo' Pop, and plus your Moms is gone Where did we go wrong? I put my soul in the song
