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mike g - michael douglas lyrics

[verse 1: vince staples]
that quiet n-gga in the front of the cl-ss
with a autographed bible and a gun in his bag
handed the mic into the audience, nothing but laughs
only if them f-gs knew it was nothing to mask up
cause any day that 12 gauge score 30
in that pin-striped bulletproof h town jersey
down to h-town at the k-mart, swing the ‘k ’round
make ’em run and scream like the supermarket sweep
too lethargic with the heat, more than in 2003
night stalks, jack bean, choppers roaring like the ’20s
ak’s, ak’s, ar’s and mp’s
fully loaded, n-gga push me, best believe that sh-t’ll end your breathing
how you look into my eyes and say you don’t believe in demons
puzzles me, sh-t i’m missing more than just a couple pieces
diamonds gleaming, b-tches screaming, welcome to the sh-t i’m dreaming
crippled nieces and nissan’s, i don’t adjust the seat
tryna catch her slipping and leave ’em crippled like williams
i ain’t talking ’bout robin, i doubt the fire will end it
this f-cking sickness i got, so f-ck h-ll
aggravated death cases, what’s jail? f-ck bail
bet i’m breaking out this b-tch, fantasia signed my book bag
wasn’t with consent, i had to shake it out that b-tch
life’s a simple woman, bet i’ll make it out this b-tch
but first i plan on getting rich
(yeah, soroc n-gga)

[interlude]
i only drink ciroca
posted with the choppa
i only drink ciroca
posted with the choppa
you old enough to talk sh-t, you old enough to get sh-t
old enough to talk sh-t, old enough to get sh-t
old enough to talk sh-t, old enough to get sh-t
these b-tch -ss kids
i got problems, we all got problems, y’all getting beat up, put your feet up

[verse 2: speak!]
what a predicament, we caught up in the thick of it
i guess i’ll be the d-ck that has to rip these p-ssy ligaments
graduated golden gloves, burner with the golden slugs
hack-sawed off, jim duggan dancing in my lugz
for real though, why them jokers wanna test me?
my main b-tch arab plus i’m balling like the espys
run the fade? yes please, knock ’em out they sb’s
put ’em on ice if they acting all gretzky
had to cop a jetski, show ’em that i’m wavy
half-breed jew f-cker with a case of rabies
born with a temper, so here come a tantrum
a tiny toon adventure turn break they jaw anthem
bare knuckle brawling, puff daddy baller
loose cannonball adderley, beatnik modded out
i was never from a broken home, you can get a broken bone
better leave a locc alone, dial tone and hold the phone
wait, what the f-ck did your homey say?
brooklyn, hold my chick-fil-a, i shish kabob and ricochet
put him on the sk!llet, george foreman grill it
trigger happy tv, then i candid camera k!ll it
i was posted at a kickback, three ninjas kicked back
tell your homey kick back before he gets his ribs cracked!
godd-mn! f-ck him up for fun!
hunter hearst helmsley, hipster with a gun

[outro]
{unintelligible}
the kids need chains, the kids need chains. all the great kids throughout history had chains
({unintelligible})
b-tches like chains, the kids like b-tches
(and the mentor said so (?))
you like b-tches, right kids? yup. you do
(show them the way)
do you like b-tches, speak?
(i love ’em)
young. you do
(??? that -ss!)
tell no you feel me, no lie, you feel me?
(mmhmmm, ???)
{unintelligible}
(look, i’m…i’m a good guy. ??? but i’m a good guy. ??? oh sh-t…({unintelligible})

- mike g lyrics

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