Blast Holiday - Crack Republican lyrics

[Verse 1: Blast Holiday] I'm feeling like a Crack Republican rushing all the knocks in 59 corner is my office, ? Nothing that's life, k** the lights in his office I once heard defense is the best offense So I'm Ron Artest soon as the ball's in All I want is the Spalding It's like you need help moving we'll bring the U-Hauls in Acting like a b**h when I thought we was all men Think I was his boss by the way that he called in Streets was quicksand, can't you see how we falling? All Hot Boys but never been to New Orleans You ain't my daddy who the f** is you boying? Vibrate the p**y like she got her a toy in Her best friend paying so of course she could join in Jumped on top p**y popped double-jointed That sh** ain't impressing, give me guap roll a joint b**h This for all my brothers in the joint snitch Run the team, I must be a point b**h All in the cuts like ointments, appointments With thoroughbred mob n***as, murder off of Mob Figaz Guns make the job quicker Give me all you got and like fruits you'll rot n***a Lost N Da Muzik's at the top n***a Triple beam, microphone, these pots and a lot of liquor Hella weed and a lot of swishers Slugs light up s**as BBS's they just light up wrists (bling) Like what we do to shine ain't worth the risks I'm a shark, ain't worried bout half you fishes I just hit home runs, throw faster pitches Computer hacker, Blast so past the glitches Just hit home runs throw faster pitches Computer hacker, Blast so past the glitches [Verse 2: Mike Larry] I'm feeling like a Strapped Republican, never will I muzzle in My words of thought, the birds is soft, the syrup is raw Lil birdies all in my car Tryna s** me off while I'm rear-viewing the law, yeah... I know they wanna put me under in jail I'm like f** 'em I'd rather be in hell No tolerance when it come to hood politics Model chicks tryna pay me a grip Gripping that fifth, while Blast puffing that piff In all black, scoping out your residence on a lick I be Wade and he Lebron on some South Beach Heat sh** Mouthpiece closed like a b**h on some freak sh** Y'all n***as clowns, peep the times on some creep sh** I'm on some silk bed sheet sh**, God... And that's word to my savior If your b**h was drowning I still wouldn't save her Mini-ARs play broads Wannabe fake stars, whipping in the kitchen like cake wars Play 'em out the cake and pitch 'em like baseball I'm tryna retire from them birds like Cal Ripken More relevant than selling sh** we really live this You n***as just witnessed, sizing up my inches Were they 25's, 19's or 21's? Foreign whips come with odd numbers, get you one Came from the slums where we pack guns We ain't taking no Bull, like John Paxson n***as tryna track my moves no GPS These hoes fighting over my kids, like CPS And that's the reason why I wear a vest on my chest And a Magnum on my- uh, you know the rest And after this song, you know who the best is From the West hands down, Ghost Town I rep