(feat. Lil' Flip)

[Lil' Flip:]
I know you like the way I murder the track
But I still be in the hood with a bird of that crack
In the burgundy 'llac with, peanut butter guts
The fiends run up to my truck for them peanut butter cups
Yeah, I pack tools like a handyman
Without a ice cream truck I'm still a _Candyman_
Yeah, just say my name five times in the mirror
And I'ma show yo' ass the true meanin of terror
Yeah, we cut your lights out, bring the metal pipes out
Memorial weekend, we bring the bikes out
The drop vipes out (vroom), the white Nikes out
The black strippers, plus the white dykes out
We call 'em kissin cousins, yeah kiss your cousin
Ain't it a shame these hoes lick dick and kiss they husband
Now that's foul play, and baby girl
I gotta check yo' ID, I ain't Mike, no child's play
I do the shit that cain't be done
Lil' Flip and Zab Judah, we the champions nigga
October 2nd we gon' teach y'all a lesson (bitch)
I bet you can't go around with the Smith & Wesson
Bitch! The champ is here
(Hot damn man fuck with your folk man)
(Stat Quo came down there boy)
(On this motherfuckin Da Bottom Part 2 for you bitch-ass niggaz, you understand me?)