Pimpton, Andre Nickatina - Little Darrell lyrics

Yo I could get wild like a crocodile
She wearin' my name cuz she love my style
A hundred white girls in a single file
Tryin' ta get touched and they all know how
It's about to go down i'm bout to go ham
Turn my stereo up cuz my blast on jam
Girl, you could get stuck like a suction cup
With your bean bag titties and
Your big ol' butt i'm talking bout

Let me catch my breath like (yeah)
Let my smoke my best like (yeah)
Now let me count my stack (yeah)
If I gave you an inch
Better bring that shit back, like

(Shorty work her back like a
Bull in a China shop) pullin' on rags
(Shorty work her back like a
Bull in a China shop)
I do it so good had to put it on wax
(Shorty work her back like a
Bull in a China shop)
She a movie star and I like it like that
(Shorty work her back like a
Bull in a China shop)
When the jakes come around
Boy you know where it's at

I come through like a UFO when it hovers
And bang Wu Tang in the shudders
Put down the nine just to
Hit him with the putter
The sucka never even told his
Mother that he loved her
Bread for the butter and pity for the fool
He should have known better than
To fuck with Crown Jewels
I'm chillin' with the Killa Whale
Look like Shamu
Ya head get wet and we ain't talkin' shampoo
We do like Van Doos my favorite dance move
Is when MJ freeze tip toe down his shoes
But, I ain't come to dance
I'm collectin' my scrill
That's why I fucks with Nicky
Trill recognize trill shoot for the kill
Ride round hot box, tint, Coupe de Ville
I boot with the heel
So go on catch a foot up your ass
Have your shit lookin' like "damn
I walked in got had 'fore I sat down"

Let me catch my breath like (yeah)
Let my smoke my best like (yeah)
Now let me count my stack (yeah)
If I gave you an inch
Better bring that shit back, like

Cuz it's a bolo mission
And I'm somthin' like a chef
In a crack kitchen
You keep frontin' might find
Your whole back missin'
I'm Vida Blue when I do my all-star pitching
You could scream in my ear and I won't listen
I don't like you bitch
You need ta quit trippin'
Do ya time playboy nigga, stop snitchin'
Man it's a sugar man
Someone might say ta god
It's like Chris Paul throwin'
Blake Griff a lob
Or Mac Dre tellin' hoes that it ain't his job
I let the Benz bust a
Bitch and I straight mob
The homie said his new gun
Had a rubber handle
And he'll love to blow you
Out like a roman candle
I stand alone in the rain like a lost lover
To reconnect with the homies
Like the Ward brothers
Man, it's a gold thang
And I like to pick up a little ho change
And my style stand out like a gold chain
Fillmoe in the buildin', and it's a go mayne
Khan Mecca and it really ain't no thang

Let me catch my breath like (yeah)
Let my smoke my best like (yeah)
Now let me count my stack (yeah)
If I gave you an inch
Better bring that shit back, like