Struggle - Far From a b**h lyrics

[Verse 1: Yelawolf] Yeah, I crawl through beats, like I had paws for feet That's why they call them tracks I dial into my tone, that's why these b**h rappers never call me back But I didn't hang up on you, I just hung you out to dry Clothes line! Little babies, go to school, don't pout cry So sick that I make sick sick Stick dick in a b**h with slit wrist Just to get a quick fix, sip syrup - sip fix Hurry get a twit pic, I'm on! (Yeah, I'm on) And you gon' smell my cologne (I'm on) Some Issey Miyake or some Bond No. 9 (Yeah, I'm on) Yeah [Hook: Big HUD] Far from a b**h and I put that on my main ho Catch me posted on the block like I'm a valero Put that dagger in your heart like a bow and arrow Somebody had to lose, I guess that's how to game go (YEAH) The game go, I guess that's how the game go I'm Far from a b**h and I put that on my main ho (YEAH) My main ho, I put that on my main ho I'm far from a b**h and I put that on my main ho [Verse 2: Rittz] She know that I'm a pro and I don't even got to tell her White b**h looking like Sarah Michelle Gellar Got her tipsy on vanilla Ghetto one she say she wanna get to know me better I said it, I could read her mind, she like an open letter Next thing you know I had her face against a feather pillow In a cheap hotel yelling at her while I drill her Like a jack hammer, almost flacked in her Tap-tap-tapping that a** like a tap dancer Then I skeeted, told that b**h to leave or imma' back-hand her I'm just playing baby, I don't really act in that manner Cause' my game so suave, I ain't scared of taking all the ladies Especially when she give a great bl**job We can go to dinner, Stoney River steak, go park Martini bar, swear it ain't no prob Now just keep your mouth shut 'bout us Now hush, You don't wanna piss my main ho off [Hook] [Verse 3: Young Stuggle] I ain't a a k**er but don't push me My moneyrun long like John Holmes in the p**y Married to these streets, I got a c**aine wife They say the folk ain't right leave my momma alone and blame my life If Kenny Powers f**ed Griselda Blanco I'd be they son With a hundred grand, steel claiming kids that ain't mine to get that tax refund Ten food stamp cards in my pocket, sh**, none of 'em mine Slumerican pie, subliminal crimnal crimes ahead of my time [Hook]