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Letra

    We ain't in here, we outta here
    We ain't in it, we above it
    Yeah!

    Just ran up in the mall with a quarter sack of heroin
    Chocolate chip ecstasy
    'Bout to sell a couple to a redhead, yeah
    I'ma meet him in the back in the Burger King
    Said he was an Eminem fan
    So I gave him an autograph and said vicariously
    And I never use that sparingly
    American, please, take two on me
    Get a pair of new chucks, put 'em in the back seat
    Right next to the other fifty pair
    I put 'еm on now, ready, I'm fresh as fuck
    I change clothеs like I never had shit to wear
    Like I never had a new whip to clean
    Scrubbin' white walls, I can get tipped, yeah
    Like I've never had a bucket seat to lean
    Grippin' woodgrain 'til I catch a pistol, yeah
    I'ma head over to the bar, reach in the toolbox
    Throw a monkey wrench and catch a ratchet
    Head up into the car, reach in the glove box
    Pop the trunk and go Jack a rabbit
    In the mood to be rude, crude and trashy
    What's new but a credit card usin' plastic
    Gotta carry two dollar bills in the back of the
    Chain wallet just to feel like I'm average, I'm

    Hot, one hundred degrees in the booth, I get
    Cold, me comin' again, I'm runnin' at the mouth
    Snap, 51-5-0, I'm outta control, I'm
    Dope, should've been cocaine, keepin' 'em up, baby
    Hot, one hundred degrees in the booth, I get
    Cold, me comin' again, I'm runnin' at the mouth
    Snap, 51-5-0, I'm outta control, I'm
    Dope, should've been cocaine, keepin' 'em up, baby, hot

    And I'm feelin' sketchy
    Fuck it, I'ma let the lead doodle (brr)
    You feelin' preppy
    Chasin' me down like a bottle of Yoo-hoo
    But I'm stardom, like a space student
    Boy, check the clock up in the bird, I'm coocoo
    You walkin' out the club like a wet noodle
    Put your boy on a leash like a pet poodle
    Bitch, firecracker
    Nobody would light 'cause that fuse is too short
    An evangelist for the dope man
    I got the plug, what's he abusin' you for?
    Hittin' for the low like a basement, new floors
    So keep your head up like a compass due north
    You comin' round the mud in the heavy Chevy
    No Benz to him, no crown vic', the blue Ford
    Still kickin' Dixies
    Still spit this filthy dirt the southern view for
    The gutter and the motherfuckerin' crooks to do court
    Thanks to play I'm still kickin' new doors
    Down, I'm still bustin' locks for you boys
    Steal this shit like I stole manure
    Smoke bellowin' out of a chimney stack
    I'm burnin' up a track like a full pack of Newports

    Hot, one hundred degrees in the booth, I get
    Cold, me comin' again, I'm runnin' at the mouth
    Snap, 51-5-0, I'm outta control, I'm
    Dope, should've been cocaine, keepin' 'em up, baby
    Hot, one hundred degrees in the booth, I get
    Cold, me comin' again, I'm runnin' at the mouth
    Snap, 51-5-0, I'm outta control, I'm
    Dope, should've been cocaine, keepin' 'em up, baby, hot

    All motherfuckin' day
    Cambo, give me that moonshine, boy
    Fuckin' gettin' it, yeah!

    And I really don't mind
    Whether or not you consider me as a rapper
    I wrote a book on how to flip on the pattern
    They forgot about the Wolf, now they're flippin' it backwards
    Ooh, what a rotten apple
    Fuckin' worms, just bait and tackle
    So as a matter of fact
    You're better off leavin' me out of the rappers chapter
    So while the old turntable wobble around
    I'ma hit another shot, swallow it down
    Take a purple bag off a bottle of Crown
    And spare no change, follow me now
    Every single record was a part of me now
    They wanted to hold a piece and a part of me down
    Motherfuckers are 'bout to get all of me now
    ET phone home, callin' me now
    Quite simply put, I'm infinitely good, just who I am
    Meant to be this hood, trippin' out all day
    Just two more grams, I'm up in these woods, yeah
    And like an oak tree that's poking
    Off of the riverbank, I be hangin' lowkey
    Throwin' my cigarette in the fire like an old chief
    Packin' a bowl in the corn pipe with gold teeth, I'm

    Hot, one hundred degrees in the booth, I get
    Cold, me comin' again, I'm runnin' at the mouth
    Snap, 51-5-0, I'm outta control, I'm
    Dope, should've been cocaine, keepin' 'em up, baby
    Hot, one hundred degrees in the booth, I get
    Cold, me comin' again, I'm runnin' at the mouth
    Snap, 51-5-0, I'm outta control, I'm
    Dope, should've been cocaine, keepin' 'em up, baby
    Hot, one hundred degrees in the booth, I get
    Cold, me comin' again, I'm runnin' at the mouth
    Snap, 51-5-0, I'm outta control, I'm
    Dope, should've been cocaine, keepin' 'em up, baby
    Hot, one hundred degrees in the booth, I get
    Cold, me comin' again, I'm runnin' at the mouth
    Snap, 51-5-0, I'm outta control, I'm
    Dope, should've been cocaine, keepin' 'em up, baby, hot

    Hitchy-witchy country ass shit
    What you talkin' 'bout?
    Catfish, motherfucker!


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