Sean Price, Jakk Frost - Admiral Greets General lyrics
[Sean Price, Jakk Frost - Admiral Greets General lyrics]
Rags to riches and riches to rags nigga
The bag with the shit got
Shit on the bag nigga
Bag on my hip, pop spit up your mask nigga
Mad little bitch drop the fist
To your ass nigga
My gift of gab is a gift from the Gods
The God given talent I'm spitting
Is different from y'alls
Sean, nigga spell my name right
You fucked up the package
You ain't selling the cane right
I'm game tight, big gun that I aim right
At any lame type that be
Thinking about a gang type hug and a smile
Ain't real so I feel like a motherless child
You dudes in trouble
Big guns with bullets that's the
Size of the super bubble
Nigga that don't work hit me with your best
I guess that don't hurt p!
What the fuck is you thinking?
You used to busting your gun
Then why the fuck is you blinking?
If I don't bash your skulls
With bottles of Dom P
I'm in bitches with Tek and Sean P
Oh who me? I'm that nigga Jakk Frost
Bust the mac off and make the D T's back off
My firing pin wind blow the
Whole double stack off
Me fuck your bitch? Nigga I'd rather jack off
Stuck on my Sinatra shit
Bitch I do it "My Way"
Four and a half ounces back to on the highway
You better than me nigga, please
That's what they all say
In the projects, fifth floor
My feigns in the hallway
They calling me bruh man loyal like the man
Don't make me fu-fuck around and
Let the uzi stutter man
Beard Gang general, Beard Gang admiral
Tom Brady with bullets
Who wanna catch this lateral?
I air niggas, delete and clear niggas
Try to stand up
Tie you to a wheelchair nigga
I went a little over so I'mma stop here nigga
This is Beard Gang Click
Long facial hair niggas
The bag with the shit got
Shit on the bag nigga
Bag on my hip, pop spit up your mask nigga
Mad little bitch drop the fist
To your ass nigga
My gift of gab is a gift from the Gods
The God given talent I'm spitting
Is different from y'alls
Sean, nigga spell my name right
You fucked up the package
You ain't selling the cane right
I'm game tight, big gun that I aim right
At any lame type that be
Thinking about a gang type hug and a smile
Ain't real so I feel like a motherless child
You dudes in trouble
Big guns with bullets that's the
Size of the super bubble
Nigga that don't work hit me with your best
I guess that don't hurt p!
What the fuck is you thinking?
You used to busting your gun
Then why the fuck is you blinking?
If I don't bash your skulls
With bottles of Dom P
I'm in bitches with Tek and Sean P
Oh who me? I'm that nigga Jakk Frost
Bust the mac off and make the D T's back off
My firing pin wind blow the
Whole double stack off
Me fuck your bitch? Nigga I'd rather jack off
Stuck on my Sinatra shit
Bitch I do it "My Way"
Four and a half ounces back to on the highway
You better than me nigga, please
That's what they all say
In the projects, fifth floor
My feigns in the hallway
They calling me bruh man loyal like the man
Don't make me fu-fuck around and
Let the uzi stutter man
Beard Gang general, Beard Gang admiral
Tom Brady with bullets
Who wanna catch this lateral?
I air niggas, delete and clear niggas
Try to stand up
Tie you to a wheelchair nigga
I went a little over so I'mma stop here nigga
This is Beard Gang Click
Long facial hair niggas