Bad Intentions (Purp & Patron) lyrics

by

Busta Rhymes


[Intro]
Hey, yo, let me get some more Patrón
Cherry Coke
Some motherf*ckin' Zig-Zags

[Verse 1]
Bad intentions, n*gga, f*ckin' with the wrong one
Call Dre, tell that n*gga I'm on one
Aftermath, n*gga, we blaze Cuban cigars
And drive foreign cars, n*gga we stars
f*ck b*tches at our leisure
Stuff di*k inside they throat 'til they have seizures
Hoes down, B's up
Roll the trees up, Smokey Robinson
Get high, start trippin', I like his jewelry, then I'm robbin' son
f*ck a platinum plaque, n*gga hood with it
Bouncin' that Impala down the shore like, "What's good with it?"
I'm a made man, I wear J's and
I been around more rocks than a f*ckin' caveman
I done sold it and bagged it
I done drove it and crashed it
f*cked my credit up smashin' the Aston
F.Y.I., n*gga, I got a magnum
Only time I been punked was by Ashton Kutcher
I'm a motherf*ckin' butcher
Leave me around anything white and I'ma cook it
I be all up in the kitchen, no need for an apron, playboy
I'm a professional, I'm cakin', playboy
The last real D-boy in this rap sh*t
Chrome 24s with the fat lip, call them sh*ts Ras Kass
Rasclart, you f*ckin' with the bomb squad
Dismantle any MC for free, you been warned, god
Church, high power
Impala sittin' clean like it took 5 showers
n*gga, I'm the G.A.M.E., so don't you tempt me
Your chest'll be full and that clip'll be empty
I'm simply one of the most raw n*ggas in this sh*t
Why you think that I got in this sh*t?
Paid for my momma house, 'bout 700k
Can't stop smokin' but I'm down to a blunt a day
Yay, I mean yayo
On the block, sun up, sun down, like where the day go?
We come through chargin', n*gga, like San Diego
Seventeen chargers, couple of 'em same color but the sh*t is ok though
'Cause all my n*ggas on the payroll get caught slippin' and get a halo
And I ain't talking 'bout the Xbox
n*ggas let the tech knock
Welcome to the real-life Black Ops
Where it's still f*ck the police, white or black cop
And we ain't killin Jonny Law, n*gga, give 'em an ass shot
Put him on injured reserve
Tie my number twelves up and then I give him the bird, word
That's how I get down, all you rap n*ggas floppin'
Who talkin' sh*t now? Only Drake and Yay worth coppin'
I take a hiatus, spend a little time gamblin' in Vegas
Come back to back runnin' faster than five Lakers
So motherf*ck a hater and his family
About to finish the R.E.D. album up in Miami
Lebron can't stand me, 'cause I got this Purp in my cup
24s on the truck, Laker Game, n*gga, what?
Ballin, Jim Jones voice, problem with the Byrd Gang?
See the chrome, boy, them my motherf*ckin' homeboys?
But I'm from Cali not to be confused with Khaled
He say "we the best" but I'm the best, that's valid
And before you try to say that that's a diss
I was at Khaled's house two days ago, b*tch
Sippin' Long Island Iced Teas with a white b*tch
That was just as bad as Ice-T's, but she's not the wifey
The wife be at home with the kids
Look at them and see how a motherf*cker live
24 cars, 5 and a half cribs, I was spendin' money like goin' broke was the sh*t
sh*t
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net