NightWalker - Let's Swing lyrics

[Verse 1:] Yeah, yo You might catch me at the local pub, postin' up Bud Light Loving life with breathren, step into the thug type To starting dumb fights, but you ain't tryna do sh** Plus your hat looks like it's four sizes too big I'll strangle you f*gs with your doorags Nice bedazzled shirt homie, you look like a douchebag And it's too bad that I don't like to wear fake sh** 'Cause I would love to smack that face with your chain, and snatch your bracelet Save it, I'll put your tan face on the dirt Keep starrin' at my girl, she's laughing at your Ed Hardy shirt You ain't hardly worth the five cent deposit on the bottle That's about to smash your face if you pop sh** Don't get obnoxious, 'cause we can step out-f**in-side And do you like a condom, f** with you and bust inside I'm not impressed by you talking about your gun And I don't a**ociate your rep with the town your from Chorus: Let's swing, when I'm talkin', let's show 'em how we walkin' Let's swing, around me this sh** happen very often Let's swing, swing 'til there's nothing left to swing at Hey yo, tell 'em where the f** you've been at [2X] [Verse 2:] I'll smack the gel off your head while you f*ggots pump your fist And you girls are gross, I wouldn't even let you s** my dick Orange faces and fake tits, nose jobs and spray tans Covering your busted face with Ray Jams <--(?), that's just disgusting I ain't even tryin' to hate man But I'd be a techno DJ if I wanted gay fans I can't break dance, but I could break your man's arm properly And I don't give a f** if the security guard's watching me I came to get a drink, and find some weird chicks with pierced tits You came here to dance on some queer sh** My beard's thick, plus I'm dressed like a scumbag And I still get more women than dumb f*gs Your girl's a c*nt rag, money hungry, materialistic b**h With a thousand dollar pocketbook, with nothing in the sh** I'm sick of it, so when you see a dude like me Clear a mothaf**in' path before I run your j**elry [Chorus] [Verse 3:] Yeah, yo My favorite sh** is the cats at rap shows With black flows, dressed like a bunch of a**holes Loud mouths talkin' about guns and the gangs they're in And it's always the wackest dudes that they end up managing So when the crowd don't show them love they take it personally Like they do when I don't give them beats or verses for free Homie, you ain't murdering me, so don't even f**in' tempt me If you were hard, instead of screaming you would've swung already And something tells me that your girl ain't really happy 'Cause while you went to buy her a drink, she was hollering at me But I don't want that b**h, I got my own chicks And my crew was packin' venues out back in '06 Please, I throw fists like I throw parties You throw fits, and hate on me 'cause I spit dope sh** Know this, I do this for the love, but I will fight And if you think I'm talkin' about you, you're probably right [Chorus]