Quarterback

Baby Bash

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    [Baby Beesh]
    Fo sho..
    Pass that sweet nigga
    And quit bumpin' yo gums
    See that shit you be barkin' mayne
    I already done
    At least twice mutha fucka
    Bling-blingin' some ice
    The dope game hall of fame
    I'm in like Jerry Rice
    Money fanatic
    This nigga known for shootin' sparatic
    Automatic wit the gadget
    Lettin' them suckas have it
    Like magic, "Abra Cadabra"
    Squash the chitter chatter
    Your blatter is fin to splatter
    When these hollow points scatter
    Oh he bald headed, tatted up
    And got his swole on
    Gang-banged out
    Rowdy than get his roll on
    Plus he think he hard cuz he just got out the pen
    Think I give a fuck
    I put hands on that man
    I'm from the shoulders
    Holdin' kilo's, pounds, and quarters
    Smoke wit the smokers
    Servin' all you sodas
    From border to border
    Blaze your quarter on the freeway
    I got your mama and your sister havin' 3-ways
    Give a fuck nigga!
    I'm not trippin'
    Baby Bash-a-reeny
    What the fuck is you sippin'?
    Pimpin' the hood chicken
    Mayne, it's off the Richter
    Got the game locked like a boa constrictor

    [Mr. Kee]
    Boy I stay saved out like a playa should
    Nigga don't smash out to a whole 'nother hood
    Late night, plane flight
    With a quart of G's
    Black-N-Brown, Ryda Thugz
    Keep it all to the good mayne
    Still colla poppin'
    Still feddy clockin'
    Gotta keep this shit knockin'
    Cuz me and Beesh be known for flossin'
    Game tight stitch like a brand new fit
    Like a drop top cad
    With an all chrome kit
    Top notch bitch who will low-cat trip
    Gotta treat 'em all the same
    Get 'em off my dick
    Shiftin' the fifth
    And shake them haters
    Cuz they be doin' too much
    It's Mr. Kee straight up out the bay
    Wit soldiers ready to bust
    But the ruger keep rudely
    Spittin' slugs be hittin'
    Tryin' to act hard
    But your sharp as a kitten
    Cup cake nigga
    Fake ass wigga
    West Side Ryda stays unforgiven
    Women and cash
    But the past ain't my style
    Spinnin' out of control
    Like I'm diggin' my own grave
    But I get paid
    Gotta stay thugged up to this lifestyle

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    Chorus: [Baby Beesh]
    Cuz I'm a quarterback
    I smoke a quarter sack
    Bash-a-reeny fettuccine
    Mayne I told you that
    Cuz I'm a quarterback
    I smoke a quarter sack
    Bash-a-reeny fettuccine
    Mayne I told you that
    Ugh get your gritz on
    Get your gritz on, boy get your gritz on
    Get your gritz on, get your gritz on
    Playboy get your gritz on

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Juan Carlos Oliva, Baby Bash y Happy

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