s-o-u-l-j-a b-o-y t-e-l-l-e-m
she wanna lick the molly off me
s-o-u-l-j-a b-o-y t-e-l-l-e-m we ready
she say wanna lick the molly off me
i pull up in a what you call it
all the bad bitches on me
i be flexin in that new rarri
so much ice on my neck i don't say sorry
you can see me from a mile away
young dre keep a tec and a throw away
ain't that right or what's his name
hit the block in that fire flame
we ready. i'm spraying the guap like confetti
the bullets they humming they let it
my pockets are fat its on lettuce
pull up in that oakland raider drop atti
then i poof be gone like whoodini driving
then i hit the pot with the pile driver
i'm strapped up with the smith and wesson
preach to these niggas like reverends
i'm taking a trip to quebec to go pick up that check
nigga no ups but he mail it
right that bitch up and i scale it
stand on the block and i sale it
selling more dope than them niggas in beverly
she can't stop touching and talking and feeling on me