TLC (feat. Action Bronson, Flatbush Zombies, Yams & Bari)

It's me
 See when you have this type of hair on your head man
 (I got prefect symetry)
 You get treated a certain type of way
 Pull up on the 37 foot boat
 Tan all year
 I hop out like I ain't shit
 Three fifth flannel on, summertime
 Straight up motherfucker
 Yeah, you ain't shit
 Dump Dump, Impalas jump, you get polished up
 Lines get drawn in the powder
 This shit look like new england clam chowder
 The Uzi singing from the tower
 Stoned singing in the shower
 My phone rings one thousand times an hour
 Shit, I used to pitch a hundred miles an hour
 Candy Maldonado
 Candy Eldorado
 Asics with the purple toe
 I met a bitch today who said my name is Serpico
 I own shit, no carnote
 Convos with Carlos
 Hundred thousand on the Cardinals
 Ain't a motherfucking cold to bring the quill to bring the heating pad
 You Gotta understand you're dealing with some heathen, jack...
 Our sward the virgin
 Suburban she do the dirt, do the dirt
 I served the earth in the surface
 I'll put your brain where that curb is
 No bricks, no chips, then your friend gonna lose service
 The word is to turn up, too turnt for them turbans, get curtains
 Lights out
 Better trap when the mice out
 Cut throat when that price out, what's your life 'bout?
 And nobody say, forty cal body ache
 Flat line to get the shit bag, take a potty break
 Better lock the gate for your mommy's sake
 Fuck boy, pick and roll, gun and dish
 But you know you ain't running shit
 but you're good with the lead, word
 Til the Tec squirt, expect dirt
 Lions, tigers, bears oh my
 Who let the zoo loose?
 The 4 4 the . before
 Click clack, bang bang
 Who you?
 But we can line it up, huh
 Pop the chunk, drop 'em in the trunk
 Ridin' around my city dog I'm Big Poppa Pump, motherfucker
 You already know what time it is, slime
 Go get your mouth hit with a can a beer and all that y'heard
 Stone cold shit, my G
 Hannn
 Spittin' and rippin'
 You niggas inferior
 I came from the game like I'm price on the mic
 But I'm nicer than Mike, Jackson or Jordan
 Flow so sick like aroma from a corpse
 It's Aston Matthews
 Got a shovel and gash you
 Face covered in ashes, flames covered in acid
 What a lonely bastard
 I'm a lonely bastard but I know some magic
 And how to make some grams flip
 Nigga is a loan
 Head with the 45th flight
 In the dirt in the earth, 6 feet away
 Smoke more green, more murder
 Psychologic. death is certain
 Democracy never stopping
 We feelin' like 'Pac all honesty
 Blood-line's strictly poverty
 Zombie niggas should honor thee
 Mind games are my games
 I rearrange your mind frame
 My mind chain, flow insane, smoke chem strains
 I'm Cobain and gold fangs
 Guns go bang
 Weed so loud
 My ears ring
 Stay around wax like earbuds
 And I'm high dog, Air Bud (woof)
 There goes the sound of the K
 9 in your face
 Get shot, broad day
 Latex gloves
 Fuck forensics
 Straight headshots
 That murder game, them car chases
 We rev up, no DMC
 Them cutthroats, dead niggas
 Strapped up in that GMC, holla
 What's brackin, nigga?
 A$ton Matthews is brackin, nigga
 What's brackin' nigga, cutthroat what's brackin, nigga
 A$AP what's brackin, nigga
 Stone cold stuntin on one of you niggas
 You and your bitch, nigga
 If you think I'm talking to you, yeah I'm talking to you nigga
 This a'int no diss song, nigga
 Step your brackets up, nigga
 Niggas out there drinking Qualitest
 Hi-Techin ass niggas
 You niggas is two lies away from giving me a fucking headache
 You motherfuckers be pouring up a one and a two liter
 That's not a three liter, nigga
 Lamborghinis fucking pouring out ashes on you niggas
 Burning cigarettes on niggas' foreheads
 We gon' body in every state, nigga
 Respect the movement, nigga
 Get your cutthroat, nigga
 Yeaah I'm standing at a 45 degree angle at all times
 Study your lessons, bitch
 Stop eating that pork, too
 Y'heard