Shut Up

Knucklehead niggas with the base in the trunk
 Bout to bubble like peroxide layin in a cut
 Grown ass kids who don't want to grow up
 But will have to do it soon cause our money's grown up
 But even if I had 5 mil in the bank
 I'mma still put a 5 dollar bill in the tank
 What you thank? I'mma change cause I got a new Range
 Fuck that ante up, man who in her got some change
 And we lookin for Dame's with the tight stretch pants
 In the big booty stance with no particular plans
 They all like to party and so do me and my man's
 So we picked a destination and head straight to the sands
 That's the beach,
 for the fam that's at least once a week
 Where we grab a couple freaks and show em the coral reef
 You know what I mean, it's that sticky Cali Green
 And it's out your wildest dreams
 Listen to the beat and
 (Shut Up in between each line)
 Just keep your eyes on the road and
 It's best you keep your mouth closed
 Stop playin with your cell phone
 Cause it's about to get thrown
 Just keep your eyes on the road and
 It's best to keep your mouth closed
 And don't you think about touching my Stereo
 Hop in my bucket baby, let's swing a episode
 Hit the mall, trick it all, see how far yo credit go
 Daddy with them sweaters low, with the Po in front of it
 Phoney man of the year, who you think you fuckin with
 Used to get the ugly chicks, now they all country thick
 All they get is trips to Rosko's for them country grits
 When I'm on my Southern shit, Might hit the Waffle House
 Have em gone off the Kush, leave em with the cotton mouth
 Bring em in swap em out, seat em in knock em down
 See them twin woofers beatin hard time to quite down
 Let me play the pilot now, listen to that vibrasound
 I was Holy Moly when Smoke was singin "Shop Around"
 See my Collar? Pop it now, Neiman Marcus shopin now
 Hair did, nails did, got you lookin proper now
 Wow! you stylin on em, flyer than falcons on em
 This is for my ladies who crazy and got a mouth on em
 Naw, there ain't another nigga flyer
 My bitch so cold you could promote her on the flyer
 These ugly chicks hatin when I'm rollin up beside her
 Bendin them corners til the curb kiss the tires
 These ho niggas liar's that's word to the Choir
 I be with my nigga Dom in Leimert smokin fire
 Where's my lighter? Mash the Kush in the Cypher
 In that puff pass motion, but I ain't touchin yo saliva
 You Juicy Mouthed,
 Chickens cluckin in them Hoochie outfits
 Swift don't just dock the tracks with people we house with
 Don't talk to me bout fashion dog you be wylin
 You still think Coogi stylish, Who's ya stylist?
 I'm usually loungin, puffin on some Ganja
 Bumpin some Sinatra, Cuttin up some pasta
 Snackin with my elbow on the table eatin Lobsters
 Napkin over the collar in case I'm sloppy with the Salsa