Ain't Shit

(アルバム： Sunday School - 2007)

Hey, what's up baby?-I mean 'bitch'
Ain't no lovey-dovey, 'walk in the park' shit with this
I see you outta pocket today baby-I mean 'hoe'
Go on home and choose him cause I don't need no more

These niggas trying to figure you dumb hoes out
Cause they ain't never slapped a bitch and told her to watch her mouth
Keep your hygiene up bitch, you growing hair on your face
Plus, you ain't shit without me, I got some hell of a taste

Bitch, I got so many hoes I be forgetting they names
Why you selling dime bags you little broke ass shame
I keep it pimping enough to teach them square niggas
I'm bigger than that bitch told you, let's share figures

You scared of high heights?
I make so much money you'll jump out a window about 4 or 5 flights, nigga
You a dead bitch, keep lookin hoe
I don't know what the fuck you looking for

Man, I wish I would open a door for a bitch.
Bitch, you better open this door for me.
The fuck you think this is?
You ain't my girlfriend, bitch and I definatly aint your boyfriend, hoe.
Got life twisted and fucked up.
Need to knock the teeth out your motha fucking mouth.
Go shave or something bitch.
You look like a motherfucking man.

Nigga you bragging because you fucked that bitch?
What you trying to do besides tell me you ain't got good sense?
You bragging 'bout a bitch that ain't got shit?
Oh, that's your homegirl? You got your ass a death wish?

Ya'll motherfuckers don't wanna see me about nothing
I ain't that hard to find either, nigga, so quit bluffing
Let me catch you in my buisness, nigga, that's on my 'P'
Kiss your whole hood good-bye, nigga, run up on me

I make G's, I'm star, and partner I don't play
Don't let that bitch get you killed out here, kiss your moms, ok?
You wanna see me nigga?
About what?
About getting your buster ass getting beat the fuck up?

You nigga's better stay away from that bitch
Oh, that's your friend?
Lemme catch you with her nigga and I'ma check ya'll chin

Let that bitch get to running off at the mothafucking mouth with me
Three strikes or not, fuck this music
Bitch I'm socking you in your mothafuckin mouth, straight up, and that's on 'P'
You know what I'm sayin'?
Some bullshit
Niggas need to start knocking these bitches out, man

Yeah, bitch, you done fucked up now!
I can't wait to see this ass-whooping finally go down
You a fake, you a phoney, unsophisticated pig
[?] went by and you still ain't shit
Dead bitch walking
Don't know when to stop talking 'till the AK47 assult rifle starts barking
Who's your man bitch?
Somebody just like you?
Good for nothing, living with your mom, selling weed to you?

Bitch, go get some exercise and get a life!
To make the money that I make, bitch, you gotta die and come back twice
Yous just a broke bitch, yous a fake bitch
Yous a dope fiend, your sister a coke fiend
You a hood rat bitch and all that child neglect
One day, somebody gonna walk up to you a break your motha fucking neck

Now, how the fuck a bitch gonna have on better clothes, better shoes, than her motherfucking kids?
You know what I'm sayin'?
Bitch, you can not wear black panies with motherfucking pink parachutte pants
Stupid mothafucking idiot.
No fashion sense what so mothafucking ever.
Mad at the world ain't you? You know what?
If I was you and looked like you, bitch, I'd be mad too.
Ain't happy for shit, cause you ain't shit.
Your momma ain't shit.
And all your homeboys, and homegirls ain't shit.
That's Suga Free, nigga.
Come see me, nigga.