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mr. muthafuckin exquire - aggin laer lyrics

[verse 1]
fly diatribe, bloodline of the twelfth kind
look inside his mind
let’s see what we’ll find
a bit of vindictive, n-gga h-llbent with
visions of his compet-tion kissing at his timbalands
roman numeral for ten
a live n-gga, put this million dollar d-ck in twenty thousand dollar b-tches
shorty work at target, but i don’t need no bargain
she got a fat -ss, i’m f-cking
pardon if my lifestyle happens to offend you
but these are the day to day things that we live through
real n-gga skullies, real n-gga hoodies
i’m a real n-gga, you can sense it in me
eight months ago, i was working in the parking lot
guarding a bunch of cars, i thought i’d never drive
coal turned into a diamond in the projects
a n-gga scheming on some money i ain’t got yet
f-ck money, b-tches too, all i need is my n-ggas, that’ll do
(peel off motherf-cker) they say i’m up next
i can tell by the press
but i can’t tell be these checks
trying to separate my [?] from distress
trying to navigate my way out of duress
you can be shawn michaels or marty jannetty
if you ain’t watch wrestling, you didn’t get that
i kick back with [censored]
watching season 1 of the wire, getting d-ck wet
caveman stroke, she can feel it where her ribs at
rubbing on a n-gga tummy like he had a six pack
i dig that
n-gga live with that
you missed that thinking it’s just rap
i could go on, but n-gga f-ck that

[verse 2: goldie glo]
shout a hoe, goldie glo, a pimp ’till i die
she didn’t see me coming ’till i put my d-ck on her eye
tell her wobbity-wobbity
make her swallow it, swallow it
swinging round like a joystick
slurp it up, but don’t gobble it
from the motherf-cking bottom with a dollar and a holla
those [?] sh-ts so dumb, i had to go and pop my collar
a player from the projects, all about the profits
blow that sh-t like i don’t know that sh-t, all we do is progress
i woke up this morning with two b-tches in my bed, two guns under pillow, [?], turkey bacon, and eggs
do this sh-t and i’m true to this, pretty hoes i’m choosing this
every time i come around, i’m floating around that coup sh-t
fresh out the barber, looking like a father
cazal frames on my face, it cost more than your prada
touch mine and i’ll cross your face with a box-cutter i’m old school
come and f-ck with these young players, stay away from those old fools

- mr muthafuckin exquire lyrics

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