Songwriter: Hodgy
Producer: Left Brain
[Verse 1]
BITCH!
Calling and ripping through my precisions
I'm killing, lyrical villain, I'm higher, touchin' the ceilin'
I'm willing to fucking win this, I'm in this to finish niggas for dinner
I'm fuckin' sinnin', begin to look out below to your temple (boom!)
I call back, September, October, November, December
You faggots put on your jackets before it snow in the winter
Rookies and ginger cookies, going to school, playing hookey
If I was starting to overlook me
No contest, I arm wres, monster on his Loch Ness
Got more than one penis, hoochies hop up on my crotches
Spotless, fucking a conscious goddess
In the darkness, latches and harness is all set, I got this
Heartless, congress, condoms, working on a topless
[?] The compass is directing, secting
I get carried away with the sexting, complexing
She's yours, I'm annexing
[Hook]
I got a gun (I cock it back)
I got a gun (Better wear your strap)
I got a gun (Nigga, don't get clapped)
You better run (See it in my lap)
I got a gun (Nigga, got my gun)
I got a gun (Nigga, this shit fun)
I got a gun (I'ma kill that bitch)
You better run
[Verse 2]
Left Brain is my Lex Luger, bitch I'm Waka Flocka
Over the stove, mixing music in a pot of rasta pasta
Swag me the fuck out, I stash my dirty money at Cassie's house
Put my gold teeth in a vulture's mouth, 120 degrees [?] pistol holster's pouch
Radness of warriors, jewlery store, gory whores
Bloody and lovely, Wolf Gang coyote ugly
I'm a wild animal, bitch, I can't be tamed
Or identified, or better, even named
And ho, that's a shame, shoulda applied more effort in this game
Yeah, call me Acronym Jim, keep my Beretta in my burgundy Tim
[Hook]
[Outro]
Shoot that nigga, make sure he dead
Shoot that nigga, aim for his head
Kill that bitch and steal her purse
Call everybody here her phone if that mothafucka works
Take that, bitch, $40 a month
BITCH!
Calling and ripping through my precisions
I'm killing, lyrical villain, I'm higher, touchin' the ceilin'
I'm willing to fucking win this, I'm in this to finish niggas for dinner
I'm fuckin' sinnin', begin to look out below to your temple (boom!)
I call back, September, October, November, December
You faggots put on your jackets before it snow in the winter
Rookies and ginger cookies, going to school, playing hookey
If I was starting to overlook me
No contest, I arm wres, monster on his Loch Ness
Got more than one penis, hoochies hop up on my crotches
Spotless, fucking a conscious goddess
In the darkness, latches and harness is all set, I got this
Heartless, congress, condoms, working on a topless
[?] The compass is directing, secting
I get carried away with the sexting, complexing
She's yours, I'm annexing
[Hook]
I got a gun (I cock it back)
I got a gun (Better wear your strap)
I got a gun (Nigga, don't get clapped)
You better run (See it in my lap)
I got a gun (Nigga, got my gun)
I got a gun (Nigga, this shit fun)
I got a gun (I'ma kill that bitch)
You better run
[Verse 2]
Left Brain is my Lex Luger, bitch I'm Waka Flocka
Over the stove, mixing music in a pot of rasta pasta
Swag me the fuck out, I stash my dirty money at Cassie's house
Put my gold teeth in a vulture's mouth, 120 degrees [?] pistol holster's pouch
Radness of warriors, jewlery store, gory whores
Bloody and lovely, Wolf Gang coyote ugly
I'm a wild animal, bitch, I can't be tamed
Or identified, or better, even named
And ho, that's a shame, shoulda applied more effort in this game
Yeah, call me Acronym Jim, keep my Beretta in my burgundy Tim
[Hook]
[Outro]
Shoot that nigga, make sure he dead
Shoot that nigga, aim for his head
Kill that bitch and steal her purse
Call everybody here her phone if that mothafucka works
Take that, bitch, $40 a month