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Baby, B.S. in honey do, Cam, V.S. 1 and 2.
I’ll help you get your son out of P.S. 22.
He in bootcamp, you on food stamps.
Welfare, no healthcare, a true tramp.
And I’m lowkey, Loki, leave you pokey, pokey.
No Rice a Roni, that’s the okey dokey.
Me and my homie Toby, make you do the hokey pokey.
Pull the pound, up and down, turn yourself around shorty.
Here’s some weed, burn yourself a pound whoadie.
Here’s a map, go load yourself a town, sporty.
I was down forty, now I’m up fifty.
Buck fifty, buck quickly, who could fuck with me?

This entry was posted on Friday, October 28th, 2005 at 5:42 am and is filed under Crappers, Ghetto Celebs, Jig Lit Review. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.