Big Pokey - Sick N Da Mind lyrics

(feat. Lil O, Kevo) (talking) Another one, and another one Bad Azz (Bad Azz) Mix Tape (Mix Tape), 3 (3) M-O-B, Presidential, whoa whoa whoa (Big Pokey) I got a heavy attitude, and the balls to match Sprewheeling up the block, top falling back Back dime on my lap, when I'm crawling black I treat one's like hunds, cause they all'd stack It ain't your cataract cat, you just can't see me Bring your A game you still can't beat me, you know it's real Chic check n***az grill, when they disrespect it Pop like break dancers, any n***a can catch it A 4-5'll clear the lot, like laws Your hoe keep riding my jock, b**h pause Light on my feet, quick as a cat when I move Ride with the heat, fixing your hat see I'm a fool With this automatic tool, I can make you feel me You can't be scared to die, if you wanna k** me A bunch of n***az, gotta twist it around Humble but I'm sick in the mind, really (Hook x2) Sick in the mind, dog I need to change my ways Quick with the iron, like switch blades and K's 24 on the grind, I ain't changed in days Time is money and money is time, so don't play (Kevo) Young Fever, I got a flow hotter than a chop shop And fold n***az, like the roof on a drop top I squeeze a .50 Cal, when it's time to mob blocks Make these n***az Harlem shake, and throw in a pop lock All-Star offense, for you haters that co*k block Here's something for your mouth, to make you sizzle like Pop Rocks You wanna see me cuffed, everytime that the cops knock But they lawyers ain't strong enough, to go against my co*k Bread, because as soon as the cops in All the shorties start dropping, I ain't playing I'm hopping Who you know besides me, keep the game on screens Chain on beams, quick to put your brain on lean I'm drain-o-clean, known to spit flames on scenes Stain on screens, bout to click my game on mean Switch the fears, like Francis twist it with peers I've been all about my paper for years, cheers (Hook x2) (Lil O) I score the work and hit the kitchen, man it's animal instincts And start with them cocoa grams, over my damn sink I don't understand, how the f** could a man think That money gon fall from the sky, like an airplane But down in H-Town, if you snooze you lose You don't grind you don't shine, so I stick to the rules All I know is put it in they face, give 'em the blues And knock off something foreign, and hit it with shoes I'm a fool, in other words I'm sick in the mind I turn one into three, dog I'm sick with the grind And everytime the sun come up, it's always here is a sign It tells me get your a** up, and get on the grind I put my back in the game, till it's put up my spine Any n***a turn snitch, then hit with the iron You a backward hustler, I'm a slicker to shine Like Bush, Escobar and Noreaga with bombs (Hook x2)