Fake Neptune Song (feat. Buckshot, Steele & Louieville Sluggah)
[Chorus 2x: Buckshot] Ah, you see too hard for me Ah, you see you hardly me Disrespect anyone, no pardon me Any time you set it off, you can start with me
[Sean Price] Meanwhile, nigga, back at the ranch Smokin' a spliff with this bitch trynna faster her pants P, off with the blouse, and off with the kangol Victoria Secret, bitch, Caribbean mango Her favorite song on Nocturnal, was Brainz Blo Put on my pants, if she can let the brains blow Heh, I had to find that funny Lost my wallet, gotta find my money, bitch How you gonna shit on me? After I let you shit on me, freaky deaky Nowadays I had it up to here Don't make me fuck around and cut your hair, listen All things Sean Price, four wings, fried rice Nigga, duck sauce, who the fuck the boss? Yo, ask me no questions, I tell you no lie Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive Uh, old school style, Furious Five Get my man Grandmaster Caz, to snuff ya ass On a, world tour, with Muhammed, my man In a piece of shit truck, smelling like vomit and ham
[Steele] And when the coochie smell bad, but the shorty look good What the fuck a nigga suppose to say, tell me If I like to do a little rap, put money on stacks Tell me how a nigga suppose to get get paid Wait a minute, now you mean to tell me, I'm stuck in this shit Rappers either bending over or riding dicks Check 'em, down and dirty niggaz stuck in the ditch The realest in the myst, tuckin' a fifth, ohh
[Louieville Sluggah] It's like a switch from Crys' to Molt Liquor and Colt 45, on the hittin' hand sittin' If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen It's either you with you, or you all around bitching Pop pop, what happened to that boy? He got popped, got rocked by a real mccoy I was fucking his broad, she was feeling joyced She said; let's go have one a girl or boy I said; not me to copy, have you talking crazy You cool and all but I pass, baby baby To all my Queensmen and Brookmen Crooked men, if you ever looked out, then good looking A nigga pray that we stay away from the bookers Cuz any kid get locked up, to another Brooklyn Avenues and streets, boulevards I creep Until every fucking dollar bill meet, yo
[Chorus 2x]
[Sean Price] Yo, alotta niggaz rhyme, some of y'all nice Some sound the same, but not Sean Price The O.D.B., and the B.C.C I'm David Ruffin, say when it's nothing, no Need for acceptance, no need for applause All you need is a gause, when you bleeding, ofcourse Of course, I ain't playin' no more Fuck holding back, fuck what I'm saving it for Get busy, bisexual burners, both ways with the biscuit Hit, niggaz and bitches, and occasionally infants Yo, save it man, tricks are for kids, bitch, David Blaine