pus*y, Money and War lyrics

[Verse 1: Cage]
CK Won, tell ya mom this sh*ts done
Got a brand new album for a f*cked up son
Her daughter gettin f*cked, like I give a sh*t tricker
Go eat that acid off'a them explicit warning stickers
Lickin the cd, askin ya mom to buy it
While I'm gagging honey, in the Hyatt with my di*k to keep her quiet
"Room service..." f*ck that! Assume Nervous
Break this b*tch ass off a bruised purpose
In and out throw a fist in the route this b*tch has waste management 'cause I p*ss in her mouth
Match made of guinness for forty five minutes
Then I'm breakin' my foot off her ass for the finish
Look dingy in Fendi but trendy
Millenium Ted Bundy lookin all friendly at Wendy's
'Cause it's time to eat and I'll f*ck you up I ain't them rhymin' geeks

[Chorus x2: Copywrite]
We want pus*y, money and I'm ready for war
Already I'm tore still I'm gettin head from your whore
Bring the fun on don't be the we put a gun on
Promoters that don't gimmie our dough are gettin' swung on

[Verse 2: Cage]
I can't help that your wife likes sex and the violence
Got knives to her head while I paint eyelids
Then cut my ear off Smirnoff get the dead deer off
Then have that b*tch get Lon Ser off
Then we laugh about it at whatever clubs poppin'
And blow this sh*t up with all the whores and thugs locked in
Make it a point to then break in the joint
Spend a clip on cult members outside waitin' to join
I'm gettin' this money I don't care how it look
If I pick up both arms you're watchin' a coward cook
Riddled with lead d-cup nipple tip of the egg
Twelve four watchin' cops itchin' their head
Sippin' grey goose with a trey deuce
On this kid that runnin' this dough and I'm like 'lay loose'
Don't have your moms be like, 'That's my boy!'
Then sign the papers to have your corpse destroyed
[Chorus x2: Copywrite]
We want pus*y, money and I'm ready for war
Already I'm tore still I'm gettin head from your whore
Bring the fun on don't be the we put a gun on
Promoters that don't gimmie our dough are gettin' swung on

[Verse 3: Cage]
You better got rocks to fling or Glocks to ping
f*ck around and got Cage doin' obnoxious things
Now it's four AM where your kids at Larry Clarke's crib
With Copywrite next to where the PTA live
Went to see Bully not for my two songs maybe a
Cameo with Bijou Phillips labia
This time around crazy I'm slicin' shook rookies
Used to pistol whip 'til Shady made it look pus*y
Tryin' to dissect words I write
Only found a napkin in the diner for the verse I wrote last night
So don't pick up bread crumbs
Like this old b*tch sittin' shoddy in the NIS gun
You get the point like your b*tch do
I punch through the planet like when PCP hits you
Watch me shake up these little primadonnas
Cuttin' off their backpacks like Mad Cow Llama

[Chorus x2: Copywrite]
We want pus*y, money and I'm ready for war
Already I'm tore still I'm gettin head from your whore
Bring the fun on don't be the we put a gun on
Promoters that don't gimmie our dough are gettin' swung on