GDP, Young Zee, Pistol - Social Enema lyrics

My girl don't need to know how
Much I spend on dope
My little brother don't need to know
How often I smoke dust
Now pass the dutchie like
A healthcare reform bill
Separate the sheep from the wolves
To get the morgues filled
I'm in the hood like, and ATMs with 10s
Umberto's Clam House
And dip out when they bring the check
I don't put shellfish on a shelf, selfish
Pulverize the pelvis, no helmet
Will Nelson shtick
Beat the pussy up, that's what it's made for
The ribeye with the steak sauce
Gently with a chainsaw that's my word
Them bitches couldn't see me if
They were Google Earth
Jay-Z sitting on Suzie Q
Until the tuna squirts
Spread bald eagle, true, God Bless America
The rib-eye with the steak sauce
Social enema pepper on the lettuce
Essex funk legends mention us
It's not for everyone
But it's definitely incredible

Now I only hit chicks with their kicks on
Pick or pose
And take a picture it will last longer
Kitchen closed
Nickel plate, brown powder tickles my nose
I'm sick of H
So I only shoot that shit through my toes
And I'm really sick of shows but
People think I'm just shy
I might really catch a cold
But people think I'm just high
That's the height of hypocrisy
We lie from the world's
Whitest right-wing democracy
You can't even get shot for free
With online swine-flu shopping
Court priorities
Who sparking tree in the parks
With me? That's my allies
Authority, Valley Ghost House, Ballantine 40s
Outside of Central Ave dives
We some foul guys al-Qaed to airlines
They legalize the street-biz
Deliver two large planes
And I don't mean the pizzas
Treat this shit, like the first of the month
Cap'n crunch rocks, fuck the lookout
We know where the police is
Division East is in the house (we incredible)
Pistol Pete is in the house (we incredible)
GDP is in the house (we incredible)
Young Zee is in the house (we incredible)

I get your girl, abracadabra
I put half of my shaft in her
Stab her, then after I smash I call it cabba
(huh) my dude GDP from West Orange
Get the best sketch artist
I bet they can't draw us (no)
I'm the man, I got a lot of fans
Way out in Rotterdam
They make holograms of how I stand
Your man rap
He probably say some shit I said before
My metaphors
Make me get the four without no credit score
(huh yo) i've been spanking kids
From George Washington out to
The Ben Franklin Bridge
I'll black and kill all of y'all
Be selling crack
Somewhere in Jacksonville, Florida
I beat the connect, for forty pounds
Sell it all in bounds
Be overseas, with a house
With like a quarter ounce
(that's all I got left)
Yeah, I'm young and dumb lyrically
And it'll take you 21 years to
Even come fucking near as me, seriously