J-Franks - We Ragers lyrics

[Intro: Nappy] :^[ :^| :^] [Verse 1: FreeJC] Tick tick tick I'm a time bomb that's countin' When I blow up, boom, I'll be higher then the mountains Kapow, my success will hit harder than a hook to the jaw Get paid from gettin' booked, then ima book to the mall Boy, ya don't need a scope to see that you be bitin' Like a southpaw, I could never see you be writin' b**h do it your way, I'm still colder than Norway And I only just started f**in' with you like foreplay [Verse 2: IATG] Money$Team back to rap on you Barbie a** hoes Just look at the platinum plaques, you can't harm me a**hole I'm everything that you'll never be, I'm petulant, testily Still committing ill felonies while fulfilling my destiny I'm beating this beat: call me Chris Brown Call me Jay Sean ‘cause I puts sh** down And I'm on point, like the Eiffel tower I'll make it rain on your wife, call that sh** a bridal shower [Verse 3: J-Franks] Glock colored black, coke all white Blue ball sack, p**y bald n' tight Snapback with the snakeskin, hiss n***a I got that yello drank, you a piss n***a If life's about potential, you Greg Oden Check my credentials, my awards golden Hit up my n***a Kris Humphries, yeah he ballin' He told me, "Friz you wasn't wit me shootin Keepin Up Wit Kim" [Verse 4: Stormium] Used to rollin' in the money, but now I'm reppin' it Call me John Wayne, ain't a Quiet Man but I got the True Grit Intro like a Bun-B turd, Nappy's got that trill sh** f** with Money get your wrists slit, starin' contest with a drill bit Creatin' lines like a Croatian, iller than Ebola Pickin' up where JC left off, these lines E-Coli, Cholera No practise, all game, call me Allan I, Balla' Your silver's 3 inches, our platinum 6 times talla' Your sh** lower than the roof of a Haitian, this is graduation Money Team, that's the corporation, where's our ovation? This sh**'s a nation, we eatin', you starvation You ball? Disqualification, this is Money$Team salvation [Verse 5: Linus] Where I'm from, we catchin' bodies on the regular Get dusted, eat some crackers, but not the degular Came from Yugos, Geo Storms, Neons and Gremlins My current whip's attractin' fine women with da pretty linen Fleet of Maybachs tearin' up the asphalt When we roll up, ain't sh** bouncin' on the ball court Puffin' so much loud, our lungs need subtitles Ridin' big booty b**hes, gurl, I need a bridle I move rico from the phone, ship it to they home I break the rules, but I free more blacks than James Cone Howard Thurman, Cornel West, Karen Baker-Fletcher, dat cracka Rob Bell (Bawse!) Weddin' God to the yayo 85 deep, boy, you know how we roll!