Text: Curren$y. Other. Who Styled Ya.

Thou shall not front on real shit
Aww hell
Face a thousand deaths
From Mr. Spit Vicious
I go hard like concrete floors
Make bitches legs open like lambo doors
Up, Out
Nigga rock the first season DBC to Mr. Chow
My ghetto chick orderin food she cant pronounce
Eat mama
Let it stick to your ribs
But no pics
Tell your friends bout the shit that we did
Cuz I cant have no evidence
Of me hangin with other chicks
Floatin round
Wifey tryna fight me on some Springer shit
It's Curren$y
Or you can call me Mr. Clean Kicks
My day job consists of business first
And video games
Bong hits and pullin skirts
Vacationing month long trips
Scamp of the Earth
I'm tryna find what any
All do was in search of
Was it love
Not sho
But I know
That ya man Hot Spitta aint
One of these niggas who
Don't know how to dress
So they swagga jack Jigga
Wait to see him on stage wit it
Then they internet shop until they get it
I saw they same thing happen to me
Niggas laughed at my Steez
Now they wearin DC's
Fashion misfits
I'm fashion gifted
You niggas Boo Boo
Find Yogi
Crash a picnic
Spitta, yea