(feat. betty wright)
so you’ve got so many diamonds,
you wear all the finest clothes,
and your grill is shining,
as you’re driving down the streets of gold,
but you can’t blame me if i set this stage on fire
mama always told me i was crazy,
my hoes say i’m amazing,
but i don’t listen to a lady,
but the b*tch say i’m hot,
and i say no b*tch i’m blazing, like what the f*ck do you expect, i’m motherf*cking cajun
i feel caged in my mind, it’s like my flow doing time, i goes crazy inside,
but when it comes out it’s fine, like wine, wait, watch, see
i get better in time like a watch osh-be-gosh-posh
spice husband couldn’t kick it like, i kick it b*tch i kicks it.
no cereal like a landing i sticks it.
whatever she asks me, after she licks it.
that’s too explicit, well why you listening,
(sniff) i smell smoke, is somethin sizzling?
that’s a p*ssy, so hey p*ssy play with p*ssy or play p*ssy.
they say you’re n*body ’til somebody kills you
well why i’m from you’re n*body ’til you kill somebody.
and you know what they say, when you’re great, it’s not murder, it’s *ss*ssinate.
so *ss*ssinate me b*tch!
’cause i’m doing the same sh*t martin luther king did, checking in the same hotel,
and the same suite b*tch, same balcony like,
“*ss*ssinate me b*tch!!” slim toche, i don’t rap, i film movies.
hear my rap, you can call me mr. director’s chair, yeah, and that’s a wrap.
cut on to the next, not the next scene, b*tch, the next check.
some say that ex. makes the s*x spec.,
so play with the p*ssy or play p*ssy.
hey p*ssy, hey p*ssy, get ’em.
straight off the corner of apple and eagle,
braveheart b*tch like the times of midevil
married to the game that warns the cathedral,
standing on the corner, selling porcelain to people.
forced into evil, it’s all in you head, it’s all so cerebral,
call me kinevil you follow and i’ll lead you straight to the needle the bottles,
the battles, the beetles will eat you,
mama named cita, i love you cita, remember when your p*ssy second husband tried to beat you,
remember when i went into the kitchen, got the cleaver,
he ain’t give a f*ck, i ain’t give a f*ck neither,
he could see the devil (see the devil) in my features, you can smell it either,
you could see cita, you could see the cita (see the cita) in my features, ’cause she don’t play neither