The Nana Song

Tell me why my dimes look pregnant
That niggas know that my connect Mexican
Hoes with light complexion little to no melanin
Smoking on the purple the herbal is so elegant
Intelligent bitches from college that study medicine
Drop it in they face like visine medicine
In your hood liquor store, cop a slice of pizza
Skinnys on playing with the rockets like Ariza
Nigga don’t confuse it, think it’s just music
Niggas think hip hop is book-bags and chew-sticks
Fiends out front beg for change for our rows
Ain’t talking about flowers let 'em hold a couple dollars
It’s like it’s Catch Phrase, roll a sack of haze
Fuck tomorrow dog, we ain’t promised today
So tell me what’s the reason these niggas eating
I feel like the whole damn industry teasing
I used to cop a nick bag and pull two out it
Man, these rap niggas jewelry looking too cloudy
Sitting in the Audi, L.A. at the do over
Throwing up the middle finger yelling «Fuck Oprah»
You in the hood nigga, trying to get your buzz up
I’m at the Standard nigga, two bitches with they tops up
And watch 'em treat each other like the buffet
While you doing calling orders at the Coney
Hoes say the dick so huge
That you can package pre-orders up through the roof
So keep sleeping on me, I’mma wake up with your bitch
Rolling over, asking her «Know how to make grits?»
Nigga I’m the shit, so homie don’t piss me
Eat pussy so good, none of my hoes kiss me
Lick your bitch or I’mma be eating
The next time you call that ho a be teasing like