Felt - Gangster Ass Anthony lyrics

"And maybe you've never felt the things that I've felt" [Verse 1: Slug] You can't f** with the Felt that flow All the sh** that you talking, don't help you grow Mad face, can't wait to catch a man made elbow You see me say 'hello', when I leave say 'hell no!' I'm not an a**hole, I'm a perfectionist Travel the globe to have s** with pessimists My pimp, my doctor and my exorcist all suggested that we come here to wreck your sh** It's the treacherous, two plus Ant If we can't do it, who the f** can? They claim king, go and slave to the ringtone I smell p**y in the bacon that you bring home The fist-f**ing dysfunction at this function is enough to justify shutting down your production Get off the mic, go straighten out ya life for one of these mc's who puts it on your wife [Verse 2: Murs] Your girlfriend got her panties off, once again One gnawed that nasty sh** that I done to her friend So once again it's on motherf**er And you won't do sh**, you a b**h so f** ya I didn't like myself this morning when I woke up So keep talking sh** like I woke loc up I'm from Pico-??? we don't stop when the police come, then the heat go poppin' Now we stopping, we go in the house You can get jail time for just tryin' to show out I'm trying to roll out, no doubt Come and take your ho out Popping that junk, young punk what you know about Felt 2 me and Slug comming through When we serving these s**ers like 'may I help you?' Supersize when we ride on these busters Murs two times with the L motherf**er [Verse 3: Murs] Man who the hell are you? Try'na barge through This is my episode and it don't co-star you So shut your f**ing mouth if you don't know what you talking 'bout Got on your cell phone, call her, tell him Now you running my name through the mud again Who I f** ain't none of your bussines What I lick or s** man, mind your b**hness And that's b**hness, not goodness You ain't proffesional punk, you're a pimp's a**istant you ride shotgun, I try to whip fool p**y don't drive this car, b**h dick do And if I hit you it's a knockout You strolled in but I bet you won't walk out 0-0-7-3-7-3-5-9-6-3 That's the code if you wanna f** with me [Verse 4: Slug] You want a hit Give me a dollar plus a beer and some head Yo Ant turn up the snare till my eardrums turn red This is for my people waking up in burning beds And this is for my people waking up to earn the rent I didn't come start no messes I paid at the entrance, I wasn't on the guestlist Had a few beverage then left because the rappers, hookers and extras were unimpressive 30 something, getting closer to the turkey stuffing Dirty husband, victim of a mercy snuffing Birdy bugging on the bottom line But I'm buzzing off the wine so everything is fine Put your hands in the air like you're happy to have hands I'ma jump up and down like I'm happy to have fans Lets all stay away from the pistols aim Onto bigger things, peace to Ricky James