Fuc You Tahm Bout (DJ Clyde 2 Beat Blend)
10 Days?
Are you for real?
Are you serious?
Fuck it then!
Nigga, fuck this whole school and everything you tahm bout
Dont ask me for no I.D., bitch I fucking signed out
Bitch Ive been suspended, bitch Ive been on timeout
Waking up in grind mode and sleeping in a grindhouse
So please dont hit my line bout the party trying to find out
What time that shit going to start or when it end,
or who gone come out
Or if I walked the stage,
Ive been on stage since I could rhyme out
Shows and shows and tapes of trying to get my fucking lines out
So please dont take my BIC out
My book out, my pick out, my hair, my fucking big mouth
You dick head you dipped out of class and now you shit out
Of luck Who fucking slick now,
and with them rhymes you written down
I hope you get a mix down with a diss track
From Ms. Rownd and my dick sack in this bitch mouth
Give a five-hive to my teacher face
and my principal that fist pound
And now you gotta switch gowns, caught you, little rascal
We got you throwing tantrums,
when you couldve thrown a tassel
Nigga youre a weakling, why you talking dealing?
Like, 'All my niggas flip birds!' Nigga, youre a wing-zing
You aint nothing but my seedling, Ill hang you from the ceiling
And leave yo little ass leaking, and leave yo body stinking
Dude yo ass been drinking?
Or you just wasnt thinking?
Ill hit you with that 6-piece: bink, bink, bink, bink, bink, bink!
I hear youre pockets jingling,
its calling me like ring, ring!
Ill choke you with your bling bling,
then run faster than Tink Tink
And all these goofies mad though,
like, 'Why he such a asshole?'
And I aint even mad yo, Ill stab you with a screwdriver
That shit aint even rhyme nigga,
Im fucked up out my mind nigga
I stay right off the 9 nigga,
thats where they try an find a nigga
Feeling froggy?
Better timid up, harsh feelings gone, put em in a blunt
Cause niggas dont wanna get bended up,
stay talking but don't send it up
Used to send it up for my skinner lunch
Save money niggas really wont spend a buck
Gimme that cash, that ben what up
Pockets keep that denim bruh like