Mouthpiece

I don't need no iron I'm already creased

I don't need no money I got mouthpiece

Thug wit me who got that indo nigga mug wit me

Stick yo' pistol out the window have a few drinks wit me

Nigga get fired up

Out of state dummy license plate faulty ass tags

Trunk full of out door weed back seat full of garbage bags

Lookin' fo' that money train lookin' fo' that treasure

Like to fuck alot mix the business wit the pleasure

What's up you timer when you gone resign

Put a soul food restaurant in yo' mamas name and own your own clothing line

Ain't no tellin'

that's what Harold told Melvin back in the days of penny loafs

When Teddy Pendegrass was in the blue notes

A big lip street nigga was in the makin' a ferocious dangerous dude

A little microscopic seed maranatin' in the fallopian tube

Ready to face the world ready to say my speech

Ready to come out early feet first nigga breeched

Uno uno dos tres quattro

Drinkin' malt liquor out the baby bottle

Five five six six seven eight

Move from the crest side to the hillside

Go ahead ask the v.p.d.

Betcha they tell you about me

Betcha they tell you they been investigatin' my ass since '83

Betcha they say dude real,

betcha they say I don't know how that nigga did it

but he sittin' on a few mill

All I gotta say is nemesis

Bet I know one thing betch you they know

who shot my mommas house up that night on magazine

Should I say I wanna take a face nah

cause if the district attorney get this tape they might build a case

I'm high as fuck man inhalin' it beatin' on my chest like Tarzan

Hold it fo' ten

Five lucky to be alive

I only got one mo' album to do on jive, an' I'm gone

I don't need no iron I'm already creased

I don't need no money Igot mouthpiece

Let's go half on a forty an' a twamp sack of broccoli

I got a car deville coupty

So what if its primer colored so what it's a hooptie

So what if the lifters tick I knwo I'm forty water

So what if I gotta get up under the engine an' tap the starter

In the mourning eatin' cereal

Strapped with the 223 infrared material

Who come from nothin' who run the thirteen hundred block

Who used to top have to walk the streets floodin' wit holes in they socks

Who really real, how many know the deal

Who got they church clothed from the good will

Click shit makes a muthafuckas night

Niggas listen to it 'cause it's right

Money don't make me, I make money

What I look like fuckin' over a broad, playboy I'm a macaroni

I mean that bitch got miles on her she's a ho

I mean that bitch can teach the wind how to blow

She's a pro groupie though

Zulu jocka binaca

The hood head knocka'

I don't need no iron I'm already creased

I don't need no money I got mouthpiece

Sometimes I'm suited up sometimes I don't care

When I'm grindin' I don't brush my teeth or comb my hair

When I'm timin' I like to buy drinks

When I'm timin' it's louie the thirteenth

Ballers you know how we livin'

You know how we meet 'em in the parking lot at popeye's chicken

I can mesmerize a hoe by jowsin

Can you make a g look like ten thousand

Where all my ghetto tycoon, beanie caps, and kangols

Where all my niggas wit them federal beepers on they ankles

Where all the hood-hoe dick teasers

Where all my beautiful black intelligent divas

I dont' need no iron I'm already creased

I don't need no money I got mouthpiece