"Yo, yo if you think I’m on some sweet shit Then won’t you creep quick, I let the heat spit Make a nigga jeep flip Classic criminal, keep a gat by my genitals Thugs love me, so don’t get splashed for the minimal We never vest up, be in a double breast tux Plus keep a fresh cut, picture me getting left stuff I let one loose, to show you I ain’t the one, duke And I ain’t puffin’ nuthin’, make all my guns shoot You let your gun loose, none of ‘em niggas gun proof Watch them niggas drop, when I pop one in they sunroof And we be lead bustin’, leavin’ niggas head gushin’ You niggas talkin’ ‘bout guns like you said something I’ll be lacin’ ‘em, hollow tips, I be wastin’ ‘em…”
So last weekkk, we had this Multicultural Lunch thingamajiggawhojiggawhat @ work. Here’s the premise: Everyone from our dept (+ company wide volunteers) brings in some authentic homecooked cultural cuisine, we set up a ridiculously affordable buffet lunch for the whole office and all proceeds raised go to charity. All good in the white collar hood, right? Well, almost. See, though everybody likes to pretend that it’s a happy-go-lucky family affair, on the downlow, this ishhht gets seriously competitive. People stay up late and workkk hard on their culinary arts, trying to cook up the hottest dish of the day. The food containers practically bleed with Iron Chef beads of championship rivalry sweat.
So on the day of the lunch, everyone’s hassling me about my cultural dish. I didnt make one obviously. But as always, I had plans. An hour before the event, my coworker Dustin and I jet to the nearest supermarket, get two packs of icecream sandwiches and bring it to the Multicultural Lunch buffet. We claim it’s an exotic French dessert called “Sandwich du Ice Creme de la Creme”
*Cue stares puffed with fuming hatred from everyone who toiled under burning midnight oil for their contributions*
P.S But srsly though, do you really want the approval of people who don’t like some icecream sandwiches Sandwich du Ice Creme de la Creme? Who are you ppl? Are you even ppl?
First I let my chain glow, y’all know how that thang go Put them colors in my rims, now I’m ridin rainbow Hood nigga fuck ‘em all, I’m at Charlie train po’ Orange Daytona, me and Kuntry ridin mango Umbrellas pop out the Phantom door when it rain though Polo that fresh like I’m Carlton but I ain’t lame though Niggas say I’m fly wit the rappin but I can sang though What you know bout Hightower Ridge and Delmar Lane though Tech jump out when I’m bustin but I can aim though Make a hundred thou, if you touch it you get yo brains blowed M&M Regal, the fuck is you in my lane fo’ ? Nigga you don’t see these goons and what they bring - war Water paint Chevy, lil buddy said that’s my rain car 800 Benz, lil cuzz this ain’t the same car Danger, anger, Herne Home ranger I was sellin dope before Jesus was in a manger
"I listen to the beat, and the rhyme is wrote See, I was 16, eyes full of hope Bagging up grams at the Hyatt though The news called it crack, I called it Diet Coke (Ohhh!) At the same time, hiding from mama, dodging the drama Fuckin plenty bitches while ducking the baby mama I found poetry, excuse me, flow-etry Say yes!, niggaz hear the “Eghck!” and they know it’s me
Make em sick to their stomach how they supposed to be Sippin on a 50 foot yacht, nigga, motion free Ocean in my backyard where it’s supposed to be Funny how my neighbors don’t think it’s where I’m supposed to be They think I’m cuter in jail But the only time I’m boxed in is when the roof’s on the SL And that even come off, so that would mean I’m visiting New world, I hope y’all listening, envisioning…”