| KD had called and gave me the word
|
| Said this nigga had ten birds, in Augusta for the week
|
| From the islands
|
| As soon as K told me this shit, I started smiling
|
| Cause all I could see was money piling
|
| Shit, on top of money
|
| Now, ??? |
| with the money for the week, and Chesapeake
|
| The heat made my nigga take a break
|
| If I could catch all 10 of them bitches, and I don’t look suspicious
|
| I’ma sell the fucking quart for the ?? |
| the ha ha
|
| As I told K bye bye, he shot me advice
|
| If you gone do it nigga do it nigga, fuck thinking twice
|
| This is ya nigga for life
|
| Go fight 'em fire for fire
|
| Hit my hip when you finish said his calling card expired
|
| Hung up the phone, contemplating on who help me do it
|
| There’s Kia and Jessica and then Rhonda truitt
|
| Now Jessica to stupid and Kia lie to much
|
| I guess I’ll take Rhonda, cause Rhonda don’t give a fuck
|
| But first I got to pump her up
|
| I’m give her what, 10 g’s
|
| Tell her if she really love me she would do this for me
|
| Eternally we’ll be together for better or for worse
|
| But first we got to take these niggas to the hearse
|
| Burst in they shit, get the bricks come back out
|
| I’m be waiting in the chevy, you know I’m ready to take em' out
|
| If they front 'cha baby, come on, we make it we rich
|
| Come on, shit, Rhonda, my down ass bitch
|
| Chorus: Help me Rhonda, help help me Rhonda (in background)
|
| I’m the realist bitch
|
| I’m mo' realer than reality
|
| Fuck that dumb shit, it take nothing to a casualty
|
| Well I’m the realist bitch
|
| I’m mo realer than reality (well uh huh)
|
| Fuck that dumb shit (uh huh)
|
| It take nothing to a casualty (what)
|
| FBI be after me, quareter ki in my womanly (uh huh)
|
| Coming back from St. Croix
|
| First lady to Pastor Troy (well come on)
|
| Even I’m a Georgia Boy, cause boy I’m ready jack (well uh huh)
|
| All you got to say is where them pussy niggas hangin' at (well uh huh)
|
| Drop it like a maniac (uh huh)
|
| Set it off by myself (well uh huh)
|
| Fuck them pussy motherfuckers and who ever else
|
| Pastor Troy:
|
| Okay baby, you set it off, there will be no more living single
|
| I’ll be ready to tie the knot after we lick them for them blocks
|
| Grab the Glock, and shot out the lot, and keep on bustin'
|
| Then I’m gone bust in cusin' and leave his punk ass fa' nothing
|
| Now what’s in store for you is 10 g’s
|
| (That's enough for me, I don’t give a fat fuck
|
| What’s the fucking hold up?)
|
| About this time I saw a truck, to a familiar
|
| K had said them motherfuckers had a truck similiar
|
| Passengers are him and her, playing some reggae shit
|
| Two a.k.'s, me and my bitch, one false move we gone spit
|
| Guess the driver thank he slick, dred head motherfucker
|
| Guess he most be know my bitch, Rhonda watch them motherfuckers
|
| That owe 'em money, that what, with K.D. |
| & Chesapeake
|
| Heard that when he spoke with me and now her folk wanna smoke me
|
| If he had the keys all I can do now is wonder
|
| But for now me and Rhonda filling 'em up with the thunder
|
| Chorus: (Repeat 4X) |