[Yella]
|
You fake cheerleadin' bitch! You want a nigga like me to beware, ha?
|
I'ma show you some spokes right now, you bitch you
|
|
[Tec-9]
|
Take them braids out his head Yella
|
|
[Chorus-Yella & Tec-9]
|
|
I'ma drag him from tha river dump his body in Chucks yard
|
Leavin' a note around his neck readin' BAD ASS YELLA BOY
|
Oooooh he wants some? Ain't that cold?
|
YOU A HOE MYSTIKAL
|
YOU A HOE MYSTIKAL
|
See I'm from the 3 and I don't give a fuck
|
And I know you thought I wouldn't be back but you can't keep me down
|
Don't forget about the U and the Cash Money Clowns
|
|
[1st Verse-Yella]
|
I'm from the 3 and I don't give a fuck, for the record
|
Once again it's the yella with the chucks
|
I'm back up on the scene with the 2 like a Viper
|
Get in so much war I think I straighter than a sniper
|
Mystikal you bitch, are you ready for the drama?
|
Told your hoe ass people hoe don't run I'll kill Mama
|
If I catch ya wit your draws down I'ma do ya
|
Once upon a time I up the roof and gimme the cruiser
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[2nd Verse-Yella]
|
|
I be the jack of all trades don't make me splizit, your fuckin' head
|
The queen I mean the King , I mean he learned many trades
|
Comin' to get'cha round the pen, ready to unwrap your braids
|
Gay blade, now what'cha wanna do? My nuts you can chew
|
Because they told me you wanted to battle
|
Told em you better scaddattle
|
You ain't bout no B-1 Doctor show, don't make me bust you up
|
Braids that'll fly up from the roundhouse socks, that roll-o
|
Now go in my shirt you hoe, blunts up in my polo
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[3rd Verse-Yella]
|
|
Stop playin' with me, stop playin' with me bitch, stop playin' with me
|
I'm like the B.G.'z I'm gat totin'
|
By this time it's the bulldog barrel smokin'
|
I hope they catch and chop ya down, tear ya ass apart
|
Thrash all the swine touch down your brains on the ground
|
I gots the gat spell it backwards,
|
that's what I do up on that ass ya bitch I'm not an actor
|
I'm comin' dumpin' on ya fake punk wannabe
|
I warned ya too many times to watch the bloody tragedy
|
I got the diamonds to the bauds, twinkle up your golds
|
Now spin the bin, in the turtleneck polo cuz I don't care
|
Fuck what you sayin' about beware
|
I'm tired of tellin' you that I'm a donkey nigga,
|
Stop playin'
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[4th Verse-Yella]
|
|
I'm in the front room, in the whirlaround, the brown table
|
Are you able? Capable? All of a sudden, um...
|
I had to pop em, I had to pop em
|
I top em all and respect is what I need
|
Hollow tips in the clips just to make your ass bleed
|
I'ma drop this pussy with the braids off see
|
I'ma dump his body in Chuck's yard, UNLV
|
I told this Mr. Cheerleader not to fuck with me
|
I told ya to keep my fuckin' name out ya fuckin' mouth
|
You didn't do it now it's time to take your ass out
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[5th Verse-Yella]
|
|
I gets lowdown and dirty with the dirty 30
|
Because I'm in your neighborhood plus my nose dirty
|
I'm into Chuck's house, deliverin' the bad luck
|
As I spin the bin with speed, it's too late to duck
|
I'm like Jim Harbaugh, puffin' on a hot Marlboro
|
I'm strictly with that asshole and comin' to down ya far
|
Why did I ask would I please leave ya alone ya see?
|
I cought THE enemies slippin gettin groceries
|
I waits behind the mailbox like an old drunkard,
|
As Archie Bunker, comfortable? You bitch you
|
You see I walk by, I ride by, I drive by too
|
I got's to hang a 45 and a AP-9 too
|
|
this goes goes out to my rakia at tyner high freshmen 05
|
[Chorus] (4X)
|
|
-----------------
|
Drag Em 'N' Tha River
|
UNLV |