Tekst:
Hum Pocket

I reach in my pockets while you were climbing rockets now, two dirty right-handed gloves. I sleep by the bedside with a nasty dream in my eye, I'd hate

We Brought Cake To The Party, No Icing No Ice On Big Phantom No License Fuck If You're Feeling Me As Long As Your Wife Is No One In My City Got A Pocket

Mack with a capital M Call me $hort Dog baby, put the P in the Pimp I keep my foot in your ass and wouldn't give a fuck Get out her pocket, bitch you

a bitch (That's right) Everybody knows that you's a (What?) funky bitch (Chorus) I know a red neck bitch named Wylita, straight stack Biscuit in her pocket

safe chump, so keep your doors locked It's the hardcore rap music that make your ears ring 'Joys of Funk' produce a song to make my fans sing Singing, swinging, hum

I got one eye on the time clock I got my other eye on the girl in the hall I got this rocket, hum Stuck right here in my pocket Waitin' for the 5 o'

'Cause if the sheriff catch a whiff of that fifth It'll probly knock him stiff Don't look dumb if my breath on hum Stick your hand in you're pocket,

My Hood Since A Snotty Nose I Come Trough The Hood Suicidle Doors I Use 2 Come Through The Hood On The Handle Bars Gat In My Draws Money In My Pocket

hum their Christmas carols The train tracks all run parallel But they'll all meet up one day On a dusty pew in a vestibule Sits the Devil playing pocket