[Verse One: Sean Price]
Ayo, I ain't a mad rapper
I ain't no back packer
I'm just a cat who will smack black off of wack rappers
n***a acting like they really gon' get me
But the motherf**ers is faker than silicon titties
P!
R. to the I.C.E
See you n***as in Hell with a gla** of ice for my tea
That's just the way that I be
Like a b**h you like it rough so I'm trying to f** Laila Ali
Trying to make dumb dollars like Diddy and Dash
Make you motherf**s hollar while you give me some cash
b**hes hear the brokest rapper you know
And they still be like, "Ruck what the f** you doing after the show?"
I'm like, "Chill with my wife, chill with my son
Before I, k** with my knife, I'm ill with my gun."
Yo six million ways to die, choose gun
Ask Sean Price, that's like six million and one
Yo, yo, yo, yo
[Flood Diesel]
Yo
Here I come
The wicked one like Mum Ra
Yeah run!
This the one they warn you about
That's son and 'em
n***as from the Brook-nam government
The Flood and sh**
n***as said "He prolly got a gun on him"
My origin
Deep like a f**ing arcade
And these n***as weak, yeah bu*ter Parkay
I'm out in these streets selling pellets of c**aine
I nearly got knocked, I'm like "f** it" the whole thang
Whole thing?
My hustle ring is like phone book
Plus my pinky ring is just so hook
Ask them n***as how I got you shook
Try to front, that's the best you do
That's the same way he left his hood
Now he dead looking not so good