Y’all niggas can’t fuck with the (boy), I’m tellin ya (boy)
Put a shell in ya (boy), now he bleedin (Oh boy)
Get him, call his (boy), he wheezin, he need his (boy)
He screamin (boy, boy, boy, boy)
Put a shell in ya (boy), now he bleedin (Oh boy)
Get him, call his (boy), he wheezin, he need his (boy)
He screamin (boy, boy, boy, boy)
All of you African-American males cannot bother with the lad!
I am telling you so, lad!
One of the bullets fired from my handgun will lodge in your person lad.
Now the one who’s been shot is bleeding unbecomingly. Oh, lad!
Hold him down, telephone his lad.
He is wheezing in pain—he needs the assistance of his lad.
He is positively screaming, “Lad! lad! lad! lad!”
Damn, shut up (boy), he’s snitchin (Oh boy)
This nigga’s bitchin (boy), he’s twistin (Oh boy)
If feds was listenin (boy), damn, whoa, whoa!
I’m in trouble, need bail money, shit
This nigga’s bitchin (boy), he’s twistin (Oh boy)
If feds was listenin (boy), damn, whoa, whoa!
I’m in trouble, need bail money, shit
Damnation! Hush yourself, lad! He’s tattling on his partners. Oh, lad!
This African-American male in my clutches is complaining lad.
His tongue is twisting from all his equivocations! Oh, lad!
If federal agents were listening to such confessions via hidden microphone lad.
Damnation! Whoa, there! Whoa!
I’m in unenviable straits. I need money to pay for my release from prison.
Shoot!
Where the fuck is my (boy)? I got trust for my (boy)
That’s why I fuck with my (boy), that’s my nigga (Oh boy)
He gon’ come get his (boy), he got love for his (boy)
That’s my (boy, boy, boy, boy)
That’s why I fuck with my (boy), that’s my nigga (Oh boy)
He gon’ come get his (boy), he got love for his (boy)
That’s my (boy, boy, boy, boy)
Where on Earth is my lad? I have faith in my lad.
That’s the reason I’m playfully fatuous with my(lad.
That’s my African-American friend! Oh, lad.
He’s going to come find his lad; he has love for his lad.
That’s my lad, lad, lad, lad!
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