Shark Tank

How about dope? Grass? Hash? Coke? Mescaline? Downers? Nebutol? Tuonal?
Chloral Hydrates?
How about any uppers? Amphetamines?
No, I’m not interested in that stuff
Crystal meth, I can get ya crystal meth
Nitrous Oxide, how about that?
How about a Cadillac? I get ya a brand new Cadillac
With the pink slip for two grand
H’z Global, Black Market shit (yo, yo, yo)
My niggas know (Yeah So, Yeah So)
Yo, yo (Yeah So, Yeah So)
Dolla still thugging regal, it’s the tan skin Bugsy Siegel
Riding in a bucket with two bitches and a rusty eagle
You know it’s nothing, cup of dope got me David Ruffin
Dwell on this game, now we lunging on my way to the luncheon
Only jewelry I wore was copper and steel
Still I pop-up on random blocks for appeal, then it’s real
I’m at the benefit for kids with better needs
The only thing it did was better off my jeans, mass extortion
Crack recording raps from Jim Morrison orphan
You only see me when it’s violence like a shark fin
The boss man, pulling strings like I’m Santana
The bandana from high school, claim my damn hammer
With bad grammar I did all this
Catch me on Tunisian beaches off a tab of acid
Eating red snapper with a goddess, got Parisian features
You niggas novice, should observe the teachers
Get clapped tryna short or cheat us
No cuts, no breaks, get it motherfucking straight nigga
You interested in a automatic? It’s a Colt .25 automatic
Knock on the locked door, package get dropped off
Bricks on a drop cloth, sick with the handle
I push the pill like I’m hot sauce
Cough up the knots and get knocked off
The top of the drop porsche get chopped off
The bitch with me is a throwaway
She roll my dope, we blow a O a day
She suck me then she go away
This big chopper will turn a nigga to saw dust
The bitch with me the same color as dandruff
I need my space, made a right and pulled up on eighth
I move the base, posted on the crate
Right on 38th in front Domingo shit
Strictly 'bout my chips, I’m on some Pringle shit
I could feed the hood off a single flip
True shit, move eight balls like pool sticks
I’m all up in your bitch head like q-tips
Smith & Wesson, nine milli' my favorite weapon
Blue cheese is my favorite dressing
(Niggas better get to ducking when the pistol scream
I could bag a fifty bundle from the triple beam)
Gold; bury it in the sand, count up a band
Light a blunt, reassure I’m the man
The turtle run a race, homicide from the shell shot
Slip the cuete through the mail box
A gauge to my head and the cell locked
All my gun shells stay well stocked
The Art of War, cup of Henny in this office war
Look back and fourth from the door with the eyes of a Labrador
Paranoia keep me safe at night
My clip is full and my game is tight
She laid on ice before I laid the pipe
Kiss the ring 'fore I shake the dice
Daddy need a new Glock, extendo shots, and tube socks
She know how them looney rules rock
Your Mac-11 gu-wop
We was before them boondocks
Since Sour Lucas and Moonrocks
No loose knots on my new noose knots, ou
Mama there go that man again, Mini Van Dan and them
With a minivan full of mannequins, uh
For the drugs that we trafficking
Check the shipping and handle it
We finesse for them ex souls, get exposed
(Niggas better get to ducking when the pistol scream
I could bag a fifty bundle from the triple beam)
Gold; bury it in the sand, count up a band
Light a blunt, reassure I’m the man