Get Off My P.P.

Lyrics for Get Off My P.P.

Lace up your Timbs, Queens, fresh off the blacktop All foreign recital (?), fiends on the backlot Back alley Bronson always cookin' up a mad plot The shit that have us laid in Benzes with a glass top Hash pot, stickin' out the dash spot I'll leave a bitch in a vacant and let his ass rot One seven for (?) an autobahn is where the cash drop Then take the paper, then distribute to the have-nots I'm on the scene, 26, and I'm a manchild 'Lo machete, hoppin' out the fan's style (?) Whether fightin' or graffiti, got them hand styles I'll wipe the floor up with your face like a ShamWow Hands down, one motherfucker 260 combined, here to bring the ruckus The bassline plus the words raise the crime rate Bronsolini show 'em how to hold a 9 straight Yo, get off the next man's P.P Be original, kid, get off the P.P Get off the shaft or my chick, get off the P.P Yo, be original, kid, get off the P.P Yo, the drugs are rolled up, the money fold up I like my bitches big-body like an old truck With their waists sliced inches like the cold cuts Been at the bottom of the sea, but then I rose up Feet first, my voice is known to curl a honey's toes Serve a pound of that, I'll leave 'em with a bloody nose Smoke the hash, take it, form like a puddy, holmes Hop in the Caddy, leave your body by a muddy road A dirty rotten scoundrel like Steve Martin Drugs so good, Fiend Weekly just three-starred 'em I'm on the road, blow trees through East Harlem Just put me in a cage in the basement, I'm retarded German shift, twist, burn to bliss I love it when the pussy tighter than a tourniquet Copped the chicken, started cookin' and converted it Dutch leaf, third of it, roll it up, murder it