Slow Motion Intro lyrics

[Intro]
Yah, they be like, "Jarren
Where the f*ck you've been, dawg?"
I'm back n*gga, K-K-Kato on the track, b*tch

[Verse 1]
Slow Motion, this is Volume 2
A pus*y n*gga what we calling you
My pockets right, let's hit a mall or two
Ayy me and flick will drink up all the goose
The b*tches show love to all the crew
I rap to get dough, that's all I do
Aye middle finger up to all of you!
Aye Jarren what happened to Funk Volume?
Holy Christ Jesus Cliff Huxtable
Drunk enough a fat b*tch is f*ckable
Flashy n*gga all my sneakers colorful
n*gga shooting outta BMW
Still stepping out in my Adidas
1800 in my margarita
She gon' let me give her throat a fetus
Imma go to sleep and she gon' roll the reefer
Told you I'm not a human n*gga
They watchin us just like the Truman n*ggas
Brass knuckles I would ruin n*ggas
I snapped the neck of f*cking two gorillas
All this pus*y feeling too familiar
Oh that's right, that's Kato's mom
Ya'll just talking, ya'll don't spray those guns
I eat a rapper like a bagel bun
These b*tches thinking imma ice they wrist
Cause I love they ass and really like they tits
Who gassed these b*tches like they nitrous
Oxide, one night the b*tch
The future's here, we got the microchips
Hey really soon I might strike it rich
Hey life's a b*tch
And her sister's a c*nt
And any second b*tch I might just flip
All this liquor got me feeling woozy
She got lick my di*k and f*cking hoack a loogie
I'll pull the knife and f*cking drop the toolie
Illest n*gga of the top loose-leaf
f*ck cancer, send a prayer to Boosie
Groupies let me get that oochie koochie
I kill a b*tch if my di*k gets cooties
A group of moolies bout to spray the uzi!
[Interlude]
f*ck you Kato
All of you talking sh*t man
Appreciate y'all staying patient
Slow Motion 2!

[Verse 2]
Yeah
Now I bought a Ferragamo belt
I love the way marijuana smell
These dirty b*tches let you run a train
I call that lil b*tch the monorail
n*ggas can't duck 100 shells
This that dope that don't sit on a scale
If you n*ggas really whip the colt
Put 100k up for the bail
Never used a f*cking ghost writer
Every f*cking word I wrote is fire
You ain't hotter than a broke lighter
Tell that b*tch to ride it like a low-rider
In this b*tch I'm figting vices n*gga
Pray for Paris fighting ISIS n*ggas
It ain't even safe up in a church
I might stick a knife in n*ggas
Used to sip a little syrup
But n*ggas keep turning up dead
They like you n*ggas is junkies
They agenda go over your head
Yeah
Love it when n*ggas just dancing in dumb
Question the world keep your hand on your gun
This is that brand new Slow Motion n*gga
Volume 2 signing out, I am done