Z-Ro - Quarterback Vision lyrics

Uh homie, you don't really want me to shine
Like Boston George
Ain't wanna give up his connect to Diego
You the type of nigga that wanna come up
But want me to stay low
The day I leave this bitch in a body bag
Is what you pray fo'
But, I'm still living and ya'll
Haters get mo' mad, with every breath I take
Sometime I might spill a nigga
But J prince clean up every mess I make
So like my quicker picker upper
That's my Bounty nigga
My piss dirty but I ain't smoke
Just weed in my brownies nigga
You don't wanna run up on me
I'm riding with that big gun
My fifty caliber shoot so far
I call that bitch my Vince Young
If it's really time to merk you homie
I ain't gon need a rehearsal homie
Cause it ain't gon be a commercial homie
It's sex money and murder homie

Call me Vince Young homie
I got quarterback vision
I can see the 5-0's, when they blitzing
I see stick up kids
Targeting Z-Ro for the sticky
So, it's pistols in every room
Every bathroom and both kitchens
Better go long homie
Cause you know I throw long homie
But, you don't wanna catch this pass
Touchdown for the SUC
We soldiers united for cash
Touchdown like Reggie Bush on a break away
Who gon catch my ass
I don't know nobody that fast, whoo

I'm feeling so Pimp C right now
Call me Ro-Chad (Bitch)
Yeah your diamonds shine but not like mine
Homie that's your bad
I ain't even a materialistic guy
I don't love money but, you might think I do
Cause I'll murder you
If you try to take some from me
Look at you now, you can't even have an open
Casket you dumb dummy
And I sleep real good every night
Cause ain't none of the bullets come from me
So don't make me Floyd Mayweather Jr your ass
Like I was 147 pounds
One hundred AK-47 rounds sit down
I'm official
Like a referee whistling tougher
Than bone gristle
Put so much lead in your ass
You can be your own pencil
Z-Ro the Crooked King of the Ghetto
Yeah homie that's my name
And I'm healthy as a motherfucker
With seventy carats up in my chain

Now I ain't never been to 106th & Park
And sat on the couch
But, I'm a legend in this rap, in the South
(ah-choo)
Excuse me I'm allergic to bitch niggas
I'm bitch niggas intolerant
So my stomach cramp up
Whenever I run into bitch niggas
I'm rolling in my Kobe Bryant
On top of Deuce MacCallister's
I'm always in a fo' do'
But I ain't never got no passengers
Good weed good drank, big money mayne
I don't get along with ya'll fellas
But I get money mayn
Most of the rappers in my city
Wanna see me flop
Cause when I came back home from jail
That's when all they shows stopped
I got quarterback vision
I ain't never been sacked
And I don't walk with fifty niggas either
How you love that