Nobody Crosses Me - Kingpin Skinny Pimp

Any nigga wanna test my nuts must prepare to die

Bullets they pop, suckers they drop

My sunroof cracked for the drive-by

Notice that I’m King of Kings when you nail me to that stick

Whether I die or whether I live still killers they squashin' shit

Set slippin' is how you come, I been project boy too long

I representing O to the G, dedicated to the streets, splittin' domes

When I blast on yo ass I must empty my clip

Screamin' out «die motherfucker»

Point blank range then he hit that dip

I’m thinkin' of homicide then suicide

I’m livin' a hard life with gigantic thuggish thoughts

Let me tell you what my hood is like

Murderer, burglar, robbers niggas they hangin' and bangin' and swangin' and

flamin' them AK’s and hay

When niggas be slippin' we be gankin', maintainin' on that pay Cause you gon'

be down when you be down

If you stab me in my back

You either gon' swim you either gon' drown

I’m serious mane, when the doors get kicked down

Nobody can duck

«What about his mother and kids?»

nigga I don’t give a fuck!

I’m thinkin' of plans, I’m thinkin' of plans, I’m thinkin' of plots

I got some rocks, a sub-zero mask, two clips and a Glock

Ain’t gon' tolerate no hatred from you monkey-ass clowns

Smilin' and frontin' and back stabbin', I’mma lay yo busta ass down

Now stop cryin' son of a bitch, I ain’t shot ya yet

My automatic *ri-zat-ti-zat-* and left his baby nuts wet

I’m thinkin' of another smooth plan, see me and this hoe set up a plot

She been fuckin' this nigga for life, three months that love gon get 'em back

You better listen because this bitch they act the same all over the world

Game is played for the paper, never free

Now she’s walkin' down the stairs

I’m on the phone, she claimin' this nigga snorin too loud

It’s time to make my move

To da crank my bucket and head to the closet, fool she knock him out

I’m in the back yard, jumpin' over bushes, jumpin' on the porch,

the door unlocked

I sneaked through the living room, crawlin' up the steps — I think I’m at the

stash spot

The dope was missin', a bitch start screamin, a nigga was never asleep

I’m bustin' at they ass, where da dope?

Nobody crosses me

See I ain’t no fake pimp bitch, I got hoes on the track

Women dancin' in the shake junt

Sendin' my money through western union

I done usin' so many phones, my knuckles rusty

I’m breakin' and shakin' the cryptic crowds

They swear to God I’m lucky

I heard that cocaine was the biggest pimp around town

Since '76 the game been kind of a switched around

It’s more motherfuckin' hoes on the track

These junkies be sellin' they pussy

These niggas they sellin' that crack

So what, these bitches wanna bring daddy the cash

That it just set it to the stack

Cause I ain’t dependent on yo broke ass

Many pimps, they die, they lookin' half dead

Cause they can’t shoot the right game to the bitch heads

Tr-izz-ick a b-izz-itch will br-izz-eak a b-izz-itch

Well izz-am the p-izzn-imp well izz-I get r-izzn-ich

Playa haters, mack invaders, roadie fakers penetrate

Hatred from they fuckin' heart, nina shots will illustrate

Suckers in a casket, talkin' about the Skinny Pimp

?

got me lookin' for it

Cross and I’mma leave yo chest damp

Look at that .45 put to yo face

Motherfucker I ain’t scared to catch a case

Gobber, mobber chrome thang

Im fuck you off in no trace like fake

We livin' up in the days where the killers don’t give a fuck

We dumpin' a hollow in yo skull, Memphis niggas tooo buck

I’m from the side where the killers like to start a riot

Fuck you up cause you can’t duck, I’m advertisin' homicides

Ain’t no clan thicker than my clan

See I got a gang in different states … gotta come with evil plans

To take you out this gutter I do too, you knew too

This street mentality bitch-ah, I dare you

To come into my hood flippin' with no fuckin' scrap

You slippin' into a drive-by, I’m hittin' that water

You takin' eternal naps

Shoot 'em down, shoot you down with my .45 G-L-O-C

Mean I with this mask to my face

The bounty hunters cannot stop a fugitive on the run

Lookin' suspicious, runnin' from choppers

Drinkin' straight Vodka, keepin' my mobber

Hangin' with Triple Six, Gimisum robbers

Imma let my heat cause destruction I ain’t cappin'

Boom-boom-boom!

No duckin' I’m doin' a 1−8-7 biatch