Joey Jihad - Mr. Me Too Lyrics

I take they bookbags, warpaint, vests, and ammo
Lift his ass up like da doors on the lambo
He bitchmade, switchblade, nigga's a man ho
Runnin round with pumps, or loafers, and sandals
Bookbags, warpaint, vests, and ammo
Lift his ass up like da doors on the lambo
He bitchmade, switchblade, nigga's a man ho
Runnin round with pumps, or loafers, and sandals

If u hustler or customer, I got dem grams for ya
For dat extra guap, drop in dat pan for ya
Butterrock, turn dat clearwater into tan water
Sick name, whip game like da transporter.
Hug da block, hit my youngins off, dey be movin dry white
You dead broke, dump it off, you can die twice
I'm straight raw, got it lock, you apply ice.
Trap or die haddy, rich porter, you mekhi phif.
Actor, frontin like you get'cha grind on.
Chamillion, I'll show u how 2 get your shine on
Keep dat dirty hammer clean,
When it's quaking, u'll b shakin like a tambourine (get 'em)

I'm rite at chu
I ain't tryna talk to u boys,
I fill ya f*ckin chest with da lead and walk through u boys
Put a f*ckin check on ya head and auction u boys.
The price is rite, I'm bob barker to boys (get 'em)

I'm on some jumpin at the law shit.
F*ck it, kill em all shit
Get it by the slab, u'll be workin with dat small shit
Quarter after quarter, haddy orderin dat raw shit
Til' I'm rich porter, game over nigga call quick.
Niggas on some broad shit,
Hatin cause my car shit
20's got 'em mad
24 make 'em all sick
When I'm drivin past, dey be urlin like dey car sick
Reed dolla haddy on ya ass.
Pause, aww shit.

I'm about a dolla, y he dolla when I make more?
Dolla, think he shabba cause he runnin with da jack bul
Prada on them things
F*ck a chain I can take yours.
Asshole, you lupe fiasco, u skateboard
All ya bitches like me,
Dolla lookin salty,
Killed 'em in dem ice creams,
Call 'em mr.softee
Bullets with da baldy
Get dis nigga off me
If it's really beef, y u reachin out 2 call me? (clown)

Nigga tryna battle me.
Reed get cho shit straight
All dat shit u spit fake
I make dis nigga battle me.
I bomb make 'em drop 17 crack for me.
Dats 17 shots dat chu pop with no accuracy
Every bar breakin 'em
Every flow crackin 'em
Ii was bout 2 chill, quilly told me go after 'em
I don't understand y this faggot so mad at me,
If u heard the beep, I musta had a low battery.

We disconnected now
Stretch 'em like a rubberband
Wanted war, bring to his door like a telegram
Check u at the fight club u stuttered like da-dutta man
Ya daddy show dat pipe luv.
And haddy got dem buttergrams.

I got it in
Young frankie my bag lady
I got it in
Reed dolla a crack babe
I got it in
Come and place ya order bul
I got it in
Ask ya pops is it oiled boy

Top klass ass
And ya cash lookin smalla dog
Touch money, what money?
I can cover all of ya'll
U feel ya boys can bail u out
U gettin r and r
Hit a nigga up long distance like a calling card

Frankie let me get a donut, with dem white ass lips.
Smack da shit outta you.

I'm a k
I'm a 9
I'm a iron 6 onya boy
Gun with a hunned shot drum
I'm a scorch ya boy
U tryna rumble in da jungle I ain't for it boy
I spray betta, I make u up to foil boy