Goldie Glo - AGGIN LAER lyrics

[Verse 1] Fly diatribe, bloodline of the twelfth kind Look inside his mind Let's see what we'll find A bit of vindictive, n***a hellbent with Visions of his competition kissing at his Timbalands Roman numeral for ten A live n***a, put this million dollar dick in twenty thousand dollar b**hes Shorty work at Target, but I don't need no bargain She got a fat a**, I'm f**ing Pardon if my lifestyle happens to offend you But these are the day to day things that we live through Real n***a skullies, real n***a hoodies I'm a real n***a, you can sense it in me Eight months ago, I was working in the parking lot Guarding a bunch of cars, I thought I'd never drive Coal turned into a diamond in the projects A n***a scheming on some money I ain't got yet f** money, b**hes too, all I need is my n***as, that'll do (Peel off motherf**er) They say I'm up next I can tell by the press But I can't tell be these checks Trying to separate my [?] from distress Trying to navigate my way out of duress You can be Shawn Michaels or Marty Jannetty If you ain't watch wrestling, you didn't get that I kick back with [censored] Watching season 1 of The Wire, getting dick wet Caveman stroke, she can feel it where her ribs at Rubbing on a n***a tummy like he had a six pack I dig that n***a live with that You missed that thinking it's just rap I could go on, but n***a f** that [Verse 2: Goldie Glo] Shout a hoe, Goldie Glo, a pimp 'till I die She didn't see me coming 'till I put my dick on her eye Tell her wobbity-wobbity Make her swallow it, swallow it Swinging round like a joystick Slurp it up, but don't gobble it From the motherf**ing bottom with a dollar and a holla Those [?] sh**s so dumb, I had to go and pop my collar A player from the projects, all about the profits Blow that sh** like I don't know that sh**, all we do is progress I woke up this morning with two b**hes in my bed, two guns under pillow, [?], turkey bacon, and eggs Do this sh** and I'm true to this, pretty hoes I'm choosing this Every time I come around, I'm floating around that coup sh** Fresh out the barber, looking like a father Cazal frames on my face, it cost more than your Prada Touch mine and I'll cross your face with a box-cutter I'm old school Come and f** with these young players, stay away from those old fools