Tekst:
Fuck The Facts

's married to the game, like a fuck-you for Christmas His gift is a curse, forget the earth, he's got The urge to pull his dick from the dirt and fuck

better things Niggas with no money act like money isn't everything I'm having a good time, they just trying to ruin it Shout out to the fact that I'm

fool You've doubt for a mic dude, the Ice is a jewel Fuck rules , I got more pool than a mule Matter of fact, never comprehend the styles I sin I've

in our way Turn up the mic dog, so I can get off Find me Charlton Heston and I might cut his head off I'm not to be fucked with Step in the range of

war? Take notes Real gangstas wear trench coats, grey suits, black ties And they seek votes and you're not to be misled They'll kill you in your fuckin

s the fuck up Are you my friend? Hell no, you're a racist You say you got one black friend, so you're in Sorry homie, no win Check the facts Mexicans

the hattin' cats Yeah, look in the mirror nigga hate on that Can't fuck wit me or keep up wit me So you run and tell a bitch not to fuck wit me 'Cause

Trying to ask me shit When my niggaz fill ya vest they ain't gon' pass me shit You should think about it, take a second Matter fact, you should take four B And think before you fuck

from the hood stupid, what type of facts are those? If you grew up with holes in your zapper toes You'd celebrate the minute you was havin' dough I'm like fuck