AGGIN LAER lyrics

[Verse 1]
Fly diatribe, bloodline of the twelfth kind
Look inside his mind
Let's see what we'll find
A bit of vindictive, n*gga hellbent with
Visions of his competition kissing at his Timbalands
Roman numeral for ten
A live n*gga, put this million dollar di*k in twenty thousand dollar b*tches
Shorty work at Target, but I don't need no bargain
She got a fat ass, I'm f*cking
Pardon if my lifestyle happens to offend you
But these are the day to day things that we live through
Real n*gga skullies, real n*gga hoodies
I'm a real n*gga, you can sense it in me
Eight months ago, I was working in the parking lot
Guarding a bunch of cars, I thought I'd never drive
Coal turned into a diamond in the projects
A n*gga scheming on some money I ain't got yet
f*ck money, b*tches too, all I need is my n*ggas, that'll do
(Peel off motherf*cker) They say I'm up next
I can tell by the press
But I can't tell be these checks
Trying to separate my [?] from distress
Trying to navigate my way out of duress
You can be Shawn Michaels or Marty Jannetty
If you ain't watch wrestling, you didn't get that
I kick back with [censored]
Watching season 1 of The Wire, getting di*k wet
Caveman stroke, she can feel it where her ribs at
Rubbing on a n*gga tummy like he had a six pack
I dig that
n*gga live with that
You missed that thinking it's just rap
I could go on, but n*gga f*ck that
[Verse 2: Goldie Glo]
Shout a hoe, Goldie Glo, a pimp 'till I die
She didn't see me coming 'till I put my di*k on her eye
Tell her wobbity-wobbity
Make her swallow it, swallow it
Swinging round like a joystick
Slurp it up, but don't gobble it
From the motherf*cking bottom with a dollar and a holla
Those [?] sh*ts so dumb, I had to go and pop my collar
A player from the projects, all about the profits
Blow that sh*t like I don't know that sh*t, all we do is progress
I woke up this morning with two b*tches in my bed, two guns under pillow, [?], turkey bacon, and eggs
Do this sh*t and I'm true to this, pretty hoes I'm choosing this
Every time I come around, I'm floating around that coup sh*t
Fresh out the barber, looking like a father
Cazal frames on my face, it cost more than your Prada
Touch mine and I'll cross your face with a box-cutter I'm old school
Come and f*ck with these young players, stay away from those old fools