The Bad Guy lyrics

[Chorus:] [x2]
You need people like me to point the finger at
I said that's the bad guy, that's the bad guy
My rap harder than your wacky rap n*gga
Don't ask why, don't ask why

[Verse 1:]
I'm that n*gga, I'm that n*gga, I'm that n*gga
How many times I got to tell you that n*ggas, I'm that n*gga
I'm the realest n*gga in my city, that's a fact
I know the street's happy to see I'm back
I'm the kid who grew up with him, If he rat
You gotta head shot him after you give him a bath
Go to his funeral, nobody know Diddy
August mother telling you, you go get the ones who did
Next sh*t fail, sh*t that's why I'm on it
You see the Bill O'Reilly show, I was on it
My n*gga, I'm popping n*gga #Twitter
They was going in mentioning my name n*gga
My n*gga, I'm popping like who go cut the check
Toast slay, I'm go keep my foot on all these n*ggas necks

[Chorus] [x2]

[Verse 2:]
Divas drinks, co-hebas links
Go Jesus minx, old deed at 17 on my heda
We drinking it straight, don't need a liter
Roll it up like a weeder, fifty rounds in the sweeper
And at churck with your families, screaming in the church
With the preacher preach, execute the body
Your the man that buys the stock
And we standing over top, when the faggot body drop
You can put the baggies on the block
Gotta watch for informers tyrna bag me for the cash
Strong waves full of hot, couple dollars in my pocket
So I trap the smoke, trap again
Getting high on the pilot in the jet
Putting mileage in that pus*y, putting mileage in your pus*y
n*ggas push me again, you pus*y n*ggas [words unclear]
You motherf*cking G, smooth curve on polish
With a bunch a bad b*tches, sucking di*k up in the parlors
[Chorus] [x2]

[Verse 3:]
Slay, you got the fire you sending
Forgot to tell you my n*gga, wifey is pregnant
I lke my metaphors, I'm just tyrna cut the ground
But they ain't listening baby
Ultrasound, they came hitting, I get with the blocking
James Winston, lets stay on the topic
Popping, I'm popping
More wallet, Shakur Wallace is big when I pocket
Rest in peace party yardy, you know how the Bronx stay
Clips in the carpet, guns under the armpit
Gone do boss it is hard, Harvard graduate [?]
Sharpers scarving the turkey, and purposely you after it
I'm ok k, it's just things that I have to get
Yow throw me a half a brick, I already have to spit
But I choose to, and if I bother you n*gga
Don't make me choose you

[Chorus] [x2]