Alex Wiley - Icky Woods lyrics

[Verse 1 - Alex Wiley] I came through with the weed Eighth in the wood My n***as was fried My hoes, they do d** My n***as is thugs All my villagers ride Getting paper Now the b**hes say he full of surprises And they thinkin' it's time To go and drop a ? On thirty s*uts and thirty doves To fly on my arrival You n***as pressed, you n***as pressed the squad eatin falafels The book of my life is gonna outsell the Bible I do this sh** with my eyes closed My dick is f**ing colossal Caught me f**in' a fossil n***as talkin' that tough sh** n***as so f**in' docile All my sessions is closed Like standin' eatin' in the kitchen I'm standing next to the stove And through all the pressure to fold My necklace is gold, my necklace is gold I take this city with me, baby I'm reppin' the 'Go So I don't give a motherf** about it I'm a motherf**ing problem And your hoes' got the mileage of a 74 [Verse 2 - Action Bronson] I know these haters wanna see me fall But my mama wanna see me ball And your shorty wanna see my balls And all these b**hes wanna see my money But they can't get sh** from me You know who you f**in' blowing f** you, straight up Chi town, we out here It's the consistency of cold honey I'm spending old money Snap my fingers, d** are sold for me Wink my eye, then a human dies While I'm dancin' to some Cuban vibes Ladies think I'm handsome and the shoes are fly Damn, tell a baby, grab your ankles 'Bout to smash your p**y like your man play for the Bengals Ickey Woods, Ickey Shuffle in the 740 Uncle Pauly right behind us in the 850 This sh** fly strange like a retarded duck You get carted off Then I'm dippin' like some garlic sauce Pimpin' Koala soft Vomit on the Porsche Spent a wallet on the loft Green olives in the joint The d** make me smarter as I use them I mean abuse them I ain't the one for all the choosin' I see them, then I do Then I'm going to the movies And then a Beamer that I'm cruisin' Serve white balls, autograph by Todd Hundley I need LeBron money Straight notes like fingers on the guitar money Splash the bread with the zahtar, dummy f** Two times I'm like the motherf**ing Mary Lou Retten of this sh** Bam, bam, Bronselino Queens Chicago Closed Sessions Blow me from the back, b**h