I’m at yo neck like Gillette
I’m at yo neck like a backboard.
Running up them racks, I’m serious I need to stack more.
Leave that boy flat, I’m serious, what you think them mags for.
That gat is in the bag and the bag is near the back door.
Damn I need a trap door.
On yo block it’s a feast
Got a choppa let it eat.
The coat made of sheep
And the shoes from Italy
Yo girl and my meat, let them meet.
Really need that purugly, fat kitty needs stuffing. Ooh.
Asteroids on the cuff links. Ooh.
Really coming up from nothing. Ooh.
I’m fucking and passing Latina, I’m packing the heatah, the Mac or the Nina. I’m with the pack, I’m the leader. Space Age, UFO, two seater. Uh. Autopilot, yeah, imma kick my feet up. Uh. Them other boys, hit or miss, derek jeter. Uh. Run it up fast, four adidas on a cheetah. In hyperdrive, mm, can you keep up?
Elroy jetson, pouring a deuce in two liter. The way she chew me up, think she a keeper? Bust and I leave her, expect me to feed her? I never need her. She an achiever, but such a teaser, go head and keep her. Get me a plug name Gustavo, I need it cheaper. I’m on yo block, lurking, I’m such a creeper. Stay with the sleeper, fuckin with me, I aim yo peepers, I’m serve to yo peoples. Space Age Laws, you planning to fall, who do you call, Space Age.
- Hip-hop & Rap