Your Boy for Life
"Ness vs Link vs Falcon (ft. Bidness & Scotty Bugatti)"
[Verse 1: Bidness]
Only rock Versace and Cavalli, f** that
b**hes call me papi, buck back, buck back
Split and make a dutch crack, open up the lunch bag
Shorty got a hunchback s**ing on that nut sack
Me? I never touch that
I use her f**ing p**y for a punchbag
Light one dro, Miguel leg drops like Tae Kwon Do
And they need us, Samba be the sneakers
Spread her wide open I guess that's what a D does (Adidas)
Never beat us, 47 heaters
Front kick, crack fists, karate chopping like Machida's
Play ball all day
I could've been recruited by the NBA
Got an a-okay
And my next flight to Vegas leaving JFK, ay
[Hook: Your Boy for Life]
Pull up to the club, all the hoes know what's up
And I'm rolling up a dub, semi-auto in the glove
Oh ohhhhhh, Oh ohhhhhhh
Pull up to the club, all the hoes know what's up
And I'm rolling up a dub, semi-auto in the glove
Oh ohhhhhh, Oh ohhhhhhh
[Verse 2: Scotty Bugatti]
Scotty Bugatti, yeah that be the name
Just a guinea speeding through the HOV lane
Sipping on a forty getting head in a drop top
From a chick who might be forty
Come up in the spot, one hand on the wheel
Souped up one make this chick neck sprain
Only 26, but yeah I spit crazy game
Pa** me the rock I'm dropping 3's like Ray Allen in the fourth
Sitting on his porch, every rhyme another sign
Of an elevated plateau
Little white boy creeping in your shadow
Banging hits out the park like Robby Cano
Every week another hit, DiMaggio streak the way I spit
56 verses on your head like a halo clip
Shh, don't speak b**h
Reppin' Queens screaming "Yerrr" like 300 Greeks in this b**h
[Hook: Your Boy for Life]
Pull up to the club, all the hoes know what's up
And I'm rolling up a dub, semi-auto in the glove
Oh ohhhhhh, Oh ohhhhhhh
Pull up to the club, all the hoes know what's up
And I'm rolling up a dub, semi-auto in the glove
Oh ohhhhhh, Oh ohhhhhhh
[Verse 3: Your Boy for Life]
Back for the 2-0-1-3, I k** it, explicit, your visit's
A one way ticket, your spirit, I'll rip it in a New York minute
Then I'll smash you with a 20 pound cinder block
In the co*k from a 48 story window drop when I kick it
Slay your epidermis a 7 layer fade
With infected, rusty razor blades and bathe in a pool of aftershave
After lunch, I pack a dutch, eat a bowl of Cap'n Crunch
As I sit back and clutch your neck and hit you with a Falcon Punch
Based on lyrics, you would think I had terminal illness
So it's safe to say I'm the sickest, good grief
Dogs run around in the yard looking for a beef
They gone end up in the yard looking for their own teeth
Visit Aruba, smoking Buddha, move to Cuba
Sipping Sambuca, shoot barracuda's out the water with bazookas
Land into a wall of defeat like concrete
I'ma open up your chest, spit over your heartbeat
[Hook: Your Boy for Life]
Pull up to the club, all the hoes know what's up
And I'm rolling up a dub, semi-auto in the glove
Oh ohhhhhh, Oh ohhhhhhh
Pull up to the club, all the hoes know what's up
And I'm rolling up a dub, semi-auto in the glove
Oh ohhhhhh, Oh ohhhhhhh