Mistah F.A.B. - Super sic wit it lyrics

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Mistah F.A.B. - Super sic wit it lyrics

Brrrrrup Brrrrrup Brrrrrup Brrrrrup Brrrrrup Brrrrrup [Verse 1: Turf Talk] I pull a heater may never follow a heater man Even though we try to smoke the weed man Put up, or shot up, my loot up is wa**up Wha-wha-what would you do as I shot yo hood up Even jealous my weed I take the cups Thats F.A.B. not Fabulous What it iz Sick wit it it iz They way this money look I'll be indepentdent for years Is a gang of hood n***as eatin' off this plate So don't come over here if you ain't from this place Here me coming bout a half a block Got a D in my silly for doing the robot Catch all kinds of us More kinds of thugs They offer designer More Kinds of d** I'm Married to the air Pistol under the battery Dopes in the air [Chorus x2:] Thizz, oh we sick wit it We iz, super sick wit it Scraper, Scraper, pull out the rippers Purple, Purple, gone of the liqour [Verse 2: Mistah FAB] I don't need no urns All I need is freaks F.a.b. what they call me Worty they mouths weeds I do the dummy, retarded, and ride the yellow bus Put a dent and a father be doing hella much High speed in my car, call it a scraper Pop my p's and yours bras, come for a ripper I only roll wit my folks, family, and mexicans Run away with what I have, I'm a pedestrian Hit the club, and I'm mad cause they won't let us in Now I'm about to go bad like drunk mexicans You know I'm mental and sumo, but I be holding weight I Got love for the East Coast, but this is Golden Gate I'm from the band PI, we don't surf talk Since I was a PI a PI, i do Turf Talk.(yee) T.H.I.Z.Z Droop-E you too hard, you need to be easy [Chorus x2:] Thizz, oh we sick wit it We iz, super sick wit it Sraper, Scraper, pull out the rippers Purple, Purple, gone of the liqour [Verse 3: E-40] Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka, it's real ugly Sk's and Ak's, in my Sentai Not the pretty aka's that go Skee-Skee But the ugly ak's that go Stoopy It really doesn't matter major feature or factor Walk up on that a**, you can have it in the bladder It's all about the money and the credits and the fat The rolls gone change, j**els and ear rings Turkin, drinking wiskey some Am I suburban, dropping off counters Tryina place my bids, tryna get in this bra Spit my lrp's, in Fairfield much You can find me in the party getting spiffed and twisted See me in the club and I'm double fisted Higher than the Statue of Liberty, extra tipsy Playing possum, acting like we dizzy. (BIOTCH!) [Chorus x2:] Thizz, oh we sick wit it We iz, super sick wit it Sraper, Scraper, pull out the rippers Purple, Purple, gone of the liqour [Outro:] Brrrrrup Brrrrrup Brrrrrup Brrrrrup Brrrrrup Brrrrrup Brrrrrup Brrrrrup