Stat Quo - Summertime Grind lyrics

In that soy sauce a day and I sit Sipping sake with a slanted eyed b**h She wondering how I get chips I'm wondering do she lick p**y, can she s** dick Blackberry ringing constant for the ghost writer k**ing sh** without a resume... Murder for hire Bare witness to the birth of an empire Diddy told me when n****s hate you they really admire Couldn't help but feel inspired I saw biggie in his eyes n***a no lie More fuel for my tank street car desire Let me ride till there's no tread left on my tires And that's word to the chronic Even though I'm smoking kush, I feel I gotta pay homage Young Mohammed; being broke, something I can't stomach So, I vomit when the money ain't coming For the record, I ain't puked in a minute Earl the pearl Spinning moves Buy it all,f** renting As the judge hands down another sentence Putting periods on n****s lives... Getting paid, getting p**y, n***a getting high I'm getting frustrated, cos all this wack sh** is getting by I guess they getting it, while the gettings good Eighty per cent of all rappers end up back in the hood And them n****s in cleats and sneakers... Suffer the same fate; poverty pleased to meet ya I let other peoples failure be my teacher So I hustle like its 89 wheres' my beeper? Street sweeper, get their brooms out Leaving kids in your girls mouth I let em run around her throat like when schools out We at the W... That p**y sweet What a f**ing view! You know the hoes don't get to see the house I make em pay for directions, pimp sh** Let them tricks spend and take em out These b**hes say I got issues... Magazines With my face on the cover, make my ex's scream Like the performer of Billie jean I'm f**ing with the doctor Demerol in my bars...Detox Though I left the roster f** with the safe you gonna see the chopper Plenty moxy; swagging out in Hollywood Middle finger to the paparazzi, cuz I keep it hood Get the picture? If you don't, then you probably should You don't understand cuz your a** never understood Eating good till it turned into a food fight N****s claiming they need money, but really need advice Started with a slice then I bought my own dominoes I thought my problems would up and go With more money... more potholes in the road A drop top will leave you more exposed In the booth in my church clothes Telling god what he already knows Its my sanity I do it fo f** the world till shes my hoe Pockets on Rex Ryan on my feet b**h Fetish for that lettuce, but I'm careful who I eat with N****s will k** you at the table quick Have you stuck upstream, lost feeling sea sick To move forward you gotta get over the past If not, go around, and tell bygones to kiss your a** Toast of the town, but no champagne in my gla** Just blood sweat and tears flying high, hope I never crash Cuz I'm just trying be who my father wasn't... And represent for my dead cousin I'm at the bank like f** it On my summertme grind Stat Quo! You gotta love it!