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lirik lagu don’t like ’em all – pharmacist

(always proper)

i tell her, “shut the f*ck up,” when i hit it
f*cked up her hair, she just did it (go)
i’m really f*ckin’ ’round with his lil’ boo on the low (ooh)
what the f*ck buddy said? i couldn’t hear ’em (shut up, lil’ ni**a)
i keep the head while i drive, almost f*cked up my ride (skrrt)
had a hand full of hair while i’m steerin’ (i’m serious)
she rippin’ off my amiris
she love to give head, she pull up on her period (period)
i thought somebody said, “that’s your wifey, dawg” (huh?)
f*ck everybody, don’t like ’em all (go)
his b*tch love me ’cause i f*ck like a dog (woof)
i got this sh*t on, ni**a, wipe me off (yеah)
i hop out the backseat just like a boss (ooh)
i two*tonеd the maybach, my seats ronald reagan
it came with a pillow, i came from the pavement
thought somebody said i ain’t made it (go)

he say he need some more stamina (uh*huh)
his b*tch f*ckin’ with me, he can’t handle her (yee)
i only had that car for three months
and i sold like 300 ps in my challenger (no cap)
wanna be bdb ent, he need help with his music
he need me to manage him (uh*uh)
we booked up, let me check if we busy (uh)
your ho like how we dress, we get jiggy
i’m not with all the talkin’, i’m with it
leave a mark on your ho, send her home with a hickey (uh*huh)
f*cked around and went home smellin’ like your lil main ho perfume
my bm tried to k!ll me (d*mn)
god forbid that lil boy play with me
have your whole family dressed up in black like a pilgrim (uh*huh)
yeah, my prices went up
your promoter was playin, but now, b*tch, we back in the buildin’
a modern day marvel, but terrible— better, horrible
when he grab the mic from son, he crushed up all his metacarpals
he said he ain’t mean it, totally by accident
after the show, he didn’t follow where y’all taxi went
will this be available on wax? ask max mill
they on the opposition to his ass*wack tax bill
but will it pass the senate? slum lord tenant
and it’s super like 1*a, have a fun stay
one day, he plan to put in a runway
with enough land for his own projects and gun play
section eight penthouse, maid look like faye dunaway
a lot of y’all ass out like g*y runaway
it’s, how they say? semi*risqué
all day everyday, give out emmys the quick way
have the average mc say, “give me a sick day”
they really ain’t got sh*t to say like timmy mcveigh (oh, sh*t)
get a hunch, a real rag tag bunch
in school, he kept a durag in a bag lunch
just to eat heads on some breakdance sh*t and spit
he writ this skit in sanskrit
if the pants fit, sport ’em, but rock ’em low
your man like rollo on the slow, can’t knock it, though
it’s like the same hustle, bro, two knuckles glow
tucked in le tigre just to let the name buckle show
good googly moogly, see that loogie?
yeah, but keep it on the d.l. hughley
you don’t watch her, he might house her like doogie
just to cut her loosie like, swoosh, mitsurugi

- pharmacist

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