Fuck You! Lyrics

[talking: Mr. 3-2 & (Skinny)]
Boys been playing with me, too much bro
(what you gon do my nigga), I'm ready to make noise
(you ready dog) pretty much, (let me pop this trunk nigga) uh-huh
(check out this AK-47 assault rifle nigga, check out the bodack on this hoe
Fully automatic nigga what you gon do, give me a thousand dollars)
That's a machine (give me a thousand dollars it's you my nigga)
That's a grown man, (I tell you what, give me fifteen hundred)
I got it right here (Give me fifteen hundred I'll give you two
One hundred round barrel clips, a infrared and a lazer beam nigga
You god damn on point what you gon do, fifteen hundred)
I'm a mark me a nigga, (sold nigga)
Boys done played with me too much, know I'm tal'n bout

[Mr. 3-2:]
Slide checkers I'm a rider, to the end
Homicider, clap a fool with the mack 10
In the wind on the Interstate, I come with ya
Hope your grandma and T-lady, got a picture
Cause that's the last sight, they gon see
f*cking with the killer gorilla, G-O-V
I'm a marksman got a rifle, with a scope
Infrareds on your head, for real folks
No joke, in the jungle or concrete
Niggaz die, everyday and every week
Don't speak, unless you got some good to say
My disciples, love to have pistol play
Anyday or anytime, that you wanna
Make it light on yourself, cause you's a goner
California, got that good H2O
That make me wanna kill, a nigga-ro

[Hook: x2]
I'ma slide ya cause I'm a rider, with a pistol
Let hot ones come at ya, like a missile
Nigga f*ck you, and what you claim
Cause I'll merk your bitch ass, when I got you in the aim [Mr. 3-2:]
You in my aim in my scope, got my beam on your throat
Too late it's no hope, my nigga I'm cut throat
Got dope, bitch whatever your ass need
Any funny bidness, your ass gon bleed
Yes indeed, 2-2-3's start busting
You ain't talking bout nothing, who's up for the f*cking
Like wet p*ssy, on a stormy night
Put my foot up your ass, when it's time to fight
Get it right, and take that mug off your face
Fo' it get replaced, with a lil' skee taste
Of buck shots, flying into your direction
Street game weapon, always keep wrecking
On deck, with mark ass fools in check
Play p*ssy get f*cked, baby that's a bet
Now I'm upset, mo'f*ckers running me hot
So I let the top down, and spray the whole block

[Hook x2]

[Lil' Keke:]
Ok f*ck what you claim, and f*ck where you hang
Not a Crip or a Blood, just a thug in the game
Screwed Up Click, Don Ke is the name
And bust a nigga melon, cause it really ain't a thang
I'm red dots and scopes, for you and your kin folk
And I'll let the chopper chop, until the hammer is broke
I got that G coast shit, make me do a mob hit
That mob you talking with, it can get your wig split
He gon fold if I'm work him, hide if I jerk him
S.U.C. G-O-V, please don't merk him
I'll slide ya don't make me hide ya, we some riders
Afghan and purple kush, really gets me higher
Real nigga, thug thizzle for shizzle
Don't make me f*ck around, and hit ya with the missile
So f*ck you, cause you don't know bout me
It's Street Game/Presidential, and courtesy C.M.G.

[Hook x2]

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