Testo Retarded - Webbie
Testo della canzone Retarded (Webbie), tratta dall'album Savage Life
Mic check, come on
Real shit
I'm stackin', rappin', but if I just so happened wasn't
I'd probably be posted up thuggin', sellin' crack or somethin'
But I had to leave it alone, because them rats are somethin'
Look like my return won't be long, the streets keep askin' for me
Young Savage on the mound, game over now
I'm in Houston and A-Town, where's that motherfuckin' crown?
And I don't have no motherfuckin' friends, I'm solo now
Put all my trust in my MAC-10, bitch, don't let me down
Collaborate, just fuck with 'em, that's makin' me sick
Spoiled bitches don't want share, so I'm takin' the shit
I'm a 110th Street cat that had my back against the ropes
No money, no love, just tears, weed, bloods and hoes
I'm like Slim, these niggas don't feel my pain
A hundred ninety-nine problems, but a bitch ain't one
Ghetto stories and gangsta music, think big labels ain't come?
Shit, we just tryna see which one, bitch
I'm so retarded
And I'm down to party
My game up for fuckin' bitch niggas' brains up
And I'm just gettin' started
They hate to see a nigga ballin'
They'd rather see me in a coffin
But rap money, street money, I'ma see money
Bitch nigga, regardless
If the shit ain't funny, then I can't grin
And if it don't make money, it don't make sense
And if you ain't really 'bout nothin', better zip your lips
'Cause around here, stuntin', nigga, empty that clip
Man, my grind so ridiculous, you can call me The Clip
And I slap all of my bitches, you can call me a pimp
I'm like the hood candy lady, boy, I got them chips
I got hoes with J-Lo faces and Beyoncé hips
Two homeboys doin' seven, can't wait 'til they touch
So many people up in Heaven that I miss so much
Vest over my chest and stomach, not because that I'm scared
But I know they comin', hope they don't shoot for my head
I'm so retarded
And I'm down to party
My game up for fuckin' bitch niggas' brains up
And I'm just gettin' started
They hate to see a nigga ballin'
They'd rather see me in a coffin
But rap money, street money, I'ma see money
Bitch nigga, regardless
Eighteen, ridin' Lex, nigga, how you hate that?
Dual league, bad bitch, give me that, shake back, nigga
Y'all ain't gotta do shit, just leave it to me
Push record for your boy, lay back, kick up your feet
Turn up the beat, a pen, paper, give me one sheet
Put a barcode on it, distribute this heat
I got the biggest fuckin' buzz buzzin' in these streets
I know you heard of Young Savage, Trill E-N-T
What, you forgot 'bout me? Thought I was gone? Well, I'm gon' go
I run this motherfucker, I'm the spice in the gumbo
I'm 'bout my fuckin' paper, man, that's all I fuckin' want more
Think you gon' get what's mine? Oh, no, you's a dumb ho
Still good, still can get you right on the down low
It never snow in Baton Rouge, I'm the nigga with the snow
To let y'all niggas do y'all thing, so I hope y'all been gettin' it
What up, player? I'm the new mayor of the city, nigga
I'm so retarded
And I'm down to party
My game up for fuckin' bitch niggas' brains up
And I'm just gettin' started
They hate to see a nigga ballin'
They'd rather see me in a coffin
But rap money, street money, I'ma see money
Bitch nigga, regardless
Credits
Writer(s): Webster Gradney, Steve Below
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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