2 Hard Mutha Fuckaz - Freddy Machete, Andre Nickatina, Shag Nasty

Yo I could get wild like a crocodile

She wearin' my name cuz she love my style

A hundred white girls in a single file

Tryin' ta get touched and they all know how

It’s about to go down

I’m bout to go ham

Turn my stereo up cuz my blast on jam

Girl, you could get stuck like a suction cup

With your bean bag titties and your big ol' butt

I’m talking bout…

Let me catch my breath like, (yeah)

Let my smoke my best like, (yeah)

Now let me count my stack (yeah x2)

If I gave you an inch better bring that shit back, like

(Shorty work her back like a bull in a China shop)

Pullin' on rags

(Shorty work her back like a bull in a China shop)

I do it so good had to put it on wax

(Shorty work her back like a bull in a China shop)

She a movie star and I like it like that

(Shorty work her back like a bull in a China shop)

When the jakes come around, boy you know where it’s at…

I come through like a UFO when it hovers

And bang Wu Tang in the shudders

Put down the nine just to hit him with the putter

The sucka never even told his mother that he loved her

Bread for the butter and pity for the fool

He should have known better than to fuck with Crown Jewels

I’m chillin' with the Killa Whale, look like Shamu

Ya head get wet and we ain’t talkin' shampoo

We do like Van ​

My favorite dance move

Is when MJ freeze tip toe down his shoes

But I ain’t come to dance I’m collectin' my scrill

That’s why I fucks with Nicky, trill recognize trill

Shoot for the kill

Ride round hot box, tint, Coupe de Ville

I boot with the heel

So go on catch a foot up your ass

Have your shit lookin' like «damn

I walked in got had 'fore I sat down.»

Hook

Cuz it’s a bolo mission

And I’m somthin' like a chef in a crack kitchen

You keep frontin' might find your whole back missing

I’m Vida Blue when I do my allstar pitchin'

You could scream in my ear and I won’t listen

I don’t like you bitch, you need ta quit trippin'

Do ya time playboy nigga, stop snitchin'

Man it’s a sugar man, someone might say ta god

It’s like Chris Paul throwin' Blake Griff a lob

Or Mac Dre tellin' hoes that it ain’t his job

I let the Benz bust a bitch and I straight mob

The homie said his new gun had a rubber handle

And he’ll love to blow you out like a roman candle

I stand alone in the rain like a lost lover

To reconnect with the homies like the Ward brothers

Man, it’s a gold thang

And I like to pick up a little ho change

And my style stand out like a gold chain

Fillmoe in the buildin', and it’s a go mayne

Khan Mecca and it really ain’t no thang

Hook